


Deflection

by starri



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Inception, Crimes & Criminals, Dreamsharing, Gen, Heist, various other cameos - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-04 15:11:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3072521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starri/pseuds/starri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Youngjae is melting contentedly in Shanghai’s sweltering heat when Himchan plops down across from him unannounced.<br/>“A job?”<br/>“Pay’s good, and Yongguk is playing Extractor” Himchan reveals without preamble. “Order me some wonton, I’m starving.”</p><p>INCEPTION AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Uniformed Loading

Youngjae is melting contentedly in Shanghai’s sweltering heat when Himchan plops down across from him unannounced. Youngjae is impressed. Himchan managed to pinpoint his location to this tiny soup shop in a busy street market in a side district of Shanghai on a Saturday, when the streets are so crowded the buildings appear to squeeze outwards to make more room.

It gives him an idea of what Himchan wants.

“A job?”

“Pay’s good, and Yongguk is playing Extractor” Himchan reveals without preamble. “Order me some wonton, I’m starving.”

Youngjae waves at the owner’s son sitting in front of a tiny fan trying to keep cool and yells Himchan’s order. His voice doesn't travel far before being swallowed by the monster of a noise that is Shanghai. Youngjae’s pretty sure all Chinese waiters can lipread.

He considers the situation as Himchan attacks his soup. Yongguk is a good extractor. While his extraction success rate isn’t the _most_ impressive, it is better than most. More importantly his keeping-his-crew-alive-and-not-recognised-by-the-mark-after-waking rate is an unrivalled one hundred percent. Several of Youngjae’s first jobs were with Mr. Bang as either Architect, or more frequently, Extractor. In those early days he didn’t understand or appreciate how Yongguk’s steadfast zen like psyche can ground the dream until he made a name for himself and began to run with other Extractors.

On the other hand, Kim Himchan is more… wild. When Bang and Kim worked together--which they do more often than not nowadays, Youngjae muses, -- interesting things tended to happen. Himchan adds extravagance to Yongguk’s dreams. Extravagance, grace, style and quite often, big explosions and fucking amazing weapons. But Himchan is also incredibly, unyieldingly astute. He always seems like he could not only read, but also underline, highlight and rewrite Youngjae’s mind.

On cue, Himchan looks up from his bowl - now devoid of wontons - and winks at him. Youngjae sighs and tried to keep his face impassive. The pay’s good, Himchan had said. 'Good' by Himchan standards meant that Youngjae won't have to take on another job for a year at least.

....But for the man to show up in person in Shanghai to scout him… Last he heard, Himchan was in Algeria parting a billionaire with his billions.

“How crazy is the job going to be?”

“It’s going to be pretty fucked up.” Himchan confirms with a smirk “ You in?”

Youngjae looks into those slanted eyes and knew that no matter how he rationalised it, he is going to come to the same conclusion. He knew as soon as the Point sat down.

“Hell yeah.” he laughs.

"Good, lets go to my hotel to talk details." Himchan pinches his cheek fondly and stands up, scattering some crumpled, dirty Yuans on the table. Youngjae does the same, minus the cheek pinching.

As they navigate out into the streets to the restaurant owner’s chants of “X _ie Xie!_ Come again!” Himchan flings an arm around his shoulders and chuckles: “I've missed dreaming with you, Jae.”

Youngjae trys, rather unsuccessfully, not to feel too good about this. He rolls his eyes for good measure, but allows Himchan to keep his arm around him. Himchan coughs slightly: “Oh, also, Yongguk is asking Jung Daehyun to be our Forger.”

Youngjae curses Kim Himchan and his damned foresight as he finds out it is basically impossible to run away from someone on a crowded street when their arm is already around you. Especially if that someone is Kim Himchan, champion cuddler and clinger.

Himchan’s chuckles turn into a full bark of a laughter that accompany Youngjae’s whimpered pleas of “Oh fuck no, not him. Please Sunbae, let me go---” into the humid Shanghai air.


	2. Angle of Twist

When Bang Yongguk was nineteen, he used ninety percent of his time studying and the remaining ten percent walking the city, finding its pulses and secret blood vessels, and buying old albums out of illegitimate tiny convenience stores. He didn’t get up to anything sneakier than sipping soju and beers and sharing cigs. He didn’t even get his first tattoo until he was twenty-two and didn’t need a fake ID anymore. He definitely didn’t do things like, say, build an illegal Chem lab in the back of a suspiciously innocent looking skateboard customization shop, or supply illegal drugs to criminal organizations.

He wonders if thinking like this made him old, then smiles to himself. If Himchan were here, he would punch his arm good-naturedly and tell him that “Yes, Bang, old as rocks, and twice as boring.”

As he makes a show of checking out the merchandise and feeling distinctly out of place in the empty store, he wonders what kind of life a kid would have to lead to end up being a supplier at such a young age. But then, he had a rather uneventful childhood, and here he is, at age twenty-six, planning to steal secrets for not very legitimate money, and getting supplies from said ninetreen-year-old no less. Perhaps it is best not to go down this train of thought at all.

“Hey Mister! What can we do for-oh its Guk hyung!”

Yongguk spins around and is confronted by collarbones. He looks up.

His first thought is, damn, he wasn't this tall at nineteen either. But his mouth, no more sensibly, says: “Um, Guk-hyung?”

“No? I’m Zelo, you’re Guk-hyung.”

“Wha-Well yes, I guess? I meant, how did you-”

“Oh,” the tall kid waves a hand airily. Yongguk notices that he is also wearing, along with a slightly worried expression, a bright orange belt, a white t-shirt, teal shorts and had bleach blond curls haloed around his head. “Jongup hyung has … lots of pictures of you? On his phone?” He pauses “So... You wanna to come to the back?”

“Perhaps that would be best.” Yongguk agrees weakly. He feels old as geography.

 

 

 

Zelo leads the way to the back of the store, into a rather messy living area complete with a rather messy coffee table, some rather messy counters and pristine shelves lined with vials. Faintly, the recognizable sickly sweet scent of somnacin wafts out of one of the side rooms, where Yongguk presumes the actual lab is.

The kid calls: “Jongup hyung! It’s Guk-hyung!” after directing Yongguk to a sofa.

Moon Jongup appears from another door, yawning and rubbing his eyes. His vague smile is in its customary place when he spotted Yongguk, and Yongguk’s expression.

The smile falters at the edges.

 

 

“No hyung! They are not ‘creeper photos’, you just looked, like, really cute? Like, your eyebrows does this weird wrinkle thing when you pass out from exhaustion?”

 

 

After Yongguk made Jongup promise and double promise _not_ to show any pictures or share any information of him or Himchan, or any other criminal connections Jongup may have to anyone, yes that includes Zelo and yes that includes when Zelo 'is doing the thing with the eyes and is pouting', Jongup shuffles out into the front rooms to man the store.

Yongguk sighs and rubs his eyes. He had meant to... well, meet the infamous Zelo, negotiate a price of a very large and specialized order of somnacin and leave, with professional exactitude. And now, he finds out that Moon Jongup, occasional Tourist and top-side bodyguard for his crew, had been sharing with the young genius Chemist photos of him passed out on top of architectural plans-- and worst of all, the two of them had taken to calling him “Guk hyung”. _And,_ the amount of photos Jongup has of Himchan is frankly scandalous. Admittedly, most of them were selcas. Yongguk should probably talk to Himchan about that.

It is hard to conduct business when the business partner was sitting hunched with the expression of a kicked puppy, but Yongguk makes a valiant effort anyways. Absentmindedly, he reaches into his right pocket and thumbs his totem.

 

 

 

“The parameters are real tricky.” Zelo says, “The time frame’s no problem, but,” He consults the notebook he had been scribbling on while Yongguk confided in him what was needed for the job. He points at one line: “...this bit? You said your mark is use to light sleep, that means you’ll need him to wake without feeling the stress of sedated sleep for him not to be suspicious. I’ll need to mix up a sedative that will stabilize two layers at least? ..But not strong enough to register after waking…”

He lapses into thoughtful silence. Yongguk noticed how smooth his speech is while talking about work, well the more illegal side of Zelo's business. In the front shop, Zelo had paused between phrases and simply looked at Yongguk with large doe eyes and a faintly puzzled expression, like he was trying to sort out the rest of the sentence before speaking. Or maybe he was just trying to figure out why Yongguk was wearing a trenchcoat in a skateboard shop.

“How soon do you need this? I’ll need testing, and you’re asking for a pretty big batch.”

Yongguk is prepared for this. “You can test on me, since I am frequently insomniac, I’m perfect for testing the after waking effects. We have a time limit of two months, but the job may need…. more than one dream session.” Yongguk noted Zelo’s raised eyebrows and quickly added “The price is worth it.”

Zelo bites the end of his pen: “How much?”

“Equal shares between six, contracted to supply, nothing on site.”

“...Alright, you’ll message me with a timetable and all that stuff?”

“Yes. Mr. Kim will be in contact with you.”

The rather cozy little room lapses back into silence as Zelo contemplates the offer. Yongguk can hear what appears to be a rather enthusiastic rendering of What is Love from the front of the store in Jongup’s clear high voice and rather broken English. He’s fairly certain Zelo will not turn him down, Yongguk can already see chemical equations lining the paper between the job details Zelo took down. Fairly certain, like, eighty percent.

Yongguk is trying hard not to think about what might happen if they are forced to contract a not as skilled Chemist when Zelo looks up from his note book. “Ok, Gu--um, Mr. Bang. I can supply for you.” and holds out his hand for Yongguk to shake.

Yongguk shakes, then stands and turns to leave.

Before he reaches the front, Zelo’s hand gently tugging his sleeve halts him. The kid looks concerned, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth: “So, I will not actually … go down in the dream...M-mr. Bang?”

“No, we only require you to run tests and supple.”

“What about… Jongup hyung, you gonna hire him ... to stay topside… on job with you?”

Yongguk hesitates. “Not this time.” He decided.

Zelo’s expression is somewhere between relieved and disappointed. Yongguk panics a little, wondering if he said the right thing. “...Um, and… you can call me Yongguk hyung if you want.”

The younger’s eyebrows raises in surprise. Then he smiles. “Aiight”.

No wonder Jongup shared any bit of gossip with this kid. He’s so darn cute. Yongguk is just glad Himchan isn’t here or he might have to add kidnapping to their growing list of illegal activities.

 

 

Yongguk loves kids. Himchan once said that it is one of his many personality flaws that obstructs him from his chosen profession of criminal mastermind. Yongguk had replied that life is too precious to restrict oneself purely for one’s career. The fact remains that Yongguk absolutely loves kids.

And, just because he is faced with an oversized one doesn't mean his heart doesn't melt into a sticky puddle of affection.

He doesn’t think he will ever be able to shake the image of Zelo and Moon Jongup huddled on the sofa sitting like guilty puppies as he schooled them on the dangers of revealing incriminating information and photos so easily.

Yongguk had once woken up from a job to find Jongup sitting quietly, totally focused. In a corner of the room, two of the mark’s personal bodyguards who were definitely not there when they went down into dreamspace were bounded and gagged on the ground. Yongguk never found out how Jongup managed to subdue them.

As he passes the well built young man in the shop, who waves at him happily with a casual “Bye hyung!” before the Yongguk steps out into the weak sunlight, he reflects on how he doesn’t think he will ever be able to hire Jongup to bodyguard for him ever again. He prefers these absentminded trills of “Baby don’t huuuuuurrt meeeeeeeeee… no more.” much more than that expression of concentrated violence.

Out of the reaches of Zelo’s little back alley shop, Yongguk sends a text to Himchan: _> need to find a new topside guard_

Briefly, he caresses his totem again.

_> also u need to stop sending pics to the moon kid_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> double negatives. I'm so sorry.


	3. Moment of Inertia

Youngjae was nineteen when he was picked up by an Extractor. He later found out that he started younger than most. Most Architects anyways.

Yongguk was Point on his first job, but Yongguk wasn’t the one that picked him up from his uncertain future as a Virtual Designs student. That was an old, experienced Extractor who went by Jay. Jay taught him the basics of dreamshare, told him to design something spectacular and left him to it. During the actual dream, Youngjae was given the instruction to lie low, which he did, concentrating on keeping his rather ingeniously warped floorplans from leaking unreality into the dream while the other members of the team got on with the information gathering. Afterwards, Jay gave him ten thousand American dollars, in cash, and dropped him right back into his Virtual Design curriculum.

By the time Youngjae got up enough courage to go after Jay a week later, the older man had already been to four different cities on four different continents and most definitely not within Youngjae’s innocent nineteen-year-old methods to reach.

He found Yongguk instead.

...Or rather…

Well, he isn’t nineteen years old anymore.

 

 

 

He walks into the studio apartment unit Himchan rented in Suginami for the job to find Yongguk and a young man conversing quietly.

“Sunbae.” He greets Yongguk with a bow. Yongguk and his companion stand to greet him as well, the younger of them giving a polite bow while Yongguk walks towards him, a rare, happy smile gracing his lips. Youngjae can’t help but smiles back, as he shakes hands with older man. It’s been a year since Youngjae last saw his first mentor. He swears the man is getting younger every time they meet.

“This is Zelo,” Yongguk introduces, “Zelo, Yoo Youngjae is our Architect.”

They shake hands. Zelo, as the up and coming young genius Chemist, is famous enough in the dreamshare circles that Yongguk doesn’t need to give further introductions. Youngjae is a bit star-struck. To his surprise, so is Zelo.

...In fact, the kid looks ready to pounce gleefully on him. Youngjae steps back slightly, and looks to Yongguk. _What is this?_

Yongguk looks rather embarrassed. His usual steadfast aura seems to be dampened by Zelo’s youthful energy. Youngjae is impressed. He never met another person that can bring out Youngguk’s infinite heaps of parental instincts faster than, well, himself.

Youngguk tries valiantly to make small talk, realizes that he is burdened with two unresponsively confused young men, and gives up. “Youngjae, Himchan set up a room for you, it’s this way.” He says, leading the way.

 

 

 

 

He knows now that it was his good luck to have a pale, soft, child-like face and that he met Bang Yongguk. However, Youngjae may have been innocent at nineteen, but he was not stupid.

At first he was intimidated, then terrified. Yongguk’s appearance wasn’t very welcoming, and he was twice as stiff when on the job. It was even worse back then, before Himchan waltzed into his crew and smoothed out the worry lines with healthy doses of sarcasm. However, Yongguk was Youngjae’s one and only link back into dreamspace, and Youngjae knew he would do anything to get back into that wonderfully fluid world - almost anything.

The way Yongguk looked at him was different from the way he observed the rest of the people they worked with. It was an expression Youngjae couldn’t decipher, and he was too young and scared not to assume the worst. That was the time Youngjae started setting up personal intruder alarms in his hotel rooms. He didn’t know Yongguk then. Didn’t understand until the Banker job.

It was the first time Youngjae worked with Kim Himchan. Yongguk had worked with Himchan before, but it was obvious that the two were not close acquaintances. It was also the first time Youngjae encountered an armed subconscious.

It was the first time Youngjae got shot.

It hurt. It hurt more than anything Youngjae had ever experienced, it hurt more than anything Youngjae had _since_ experienced.

Yongguk had held him as he gurgled and bled, and his eyes were two circles of shock and horror that reflected Youngjae’s pain and absorbed it. It was as if Yongguk was watching his own child die.

Then, Youngjae understood.

He understood why Yongguk had waited for him for a week after that first job when he should have been skipping town. He understood why Yongguk was so adamant about him practicing dreaming even though others told him he’ll pick things up as they go along. He understood why Yongguk looked at him like he couldn’t figure out why he was there.

He understood and he wanted to say something to Youngguk, to remind him that they are in a dream, and don’t worry, he’ll wait uptop for them, but instead, he opened his mouth and started choking on his own blood. That was when Kim Himchan appeared, took one look at him, and shot him through the head.

 

 

 

“What did Himchan tell you about the job?” Yongguk asked him, inside the spacious studio space adjacent to the living area.

“That it’s gonna be difficult and we are stealing information from Korean mobsters for Japanese mobsters?”

Yongguk froze in the middle of rummaging for the case files and turns to him, frowning slightly. “That’s it? You agreed to it on so little information?”

Youngjae smiles. “If the job is too dangerous, Himchan Sunbae would be the first to walk away.”

Yongguk’s shoulder untensed slightly. He is still stiff enough to look like he might pull something just by standing, but at least the corners of his mouth turned up in a ghost of a smile. The week-old corpse impression is pretty customary for Yongguk during the planning stages anyways.

“Did he tell you that we might have to go into different minds? And perhaps multiple times?”

Youngjae pauses in the act of setting up his work station. His free hand rises to his lips and he taps his teeth absentmindedly. “Well, he hinted.”

“Himchan isn’t the hinting type.”

“Well, okay, his actual words were,” Youngjae clears his throat and drops his voice half an octave to imitate Himchan’s gravelly batman voice: “ _‘We might have to go in quite a few of times, think of it as a quick bathroom fuck. We push in fast and pull out fast until we get the job done and we’ll have to keep the number of times to a minimum. Also if you back out now Yoo Youngjae, remember that I still have those photos from the Potato Incident.’_ ”

Yongguk had covered his eyes with his long fingers half way through the rendition. “The pato--actually I really don’t want to know.” He peers at Youngjae as his fingers uncovers his eyes to rub at his temple instead: “If you don’t… feel comfortable, I mean, Himchan basically blackmailed-”

“It’s okay, Sunbae,” Youngjae cuts him off, trying not to laugh, “I want in on this job. The case files?”

Yongguk hands it to him just as Zelo’s voice floats in: “Hyung! We’re ready to test again!”

“ _Hyung?_ ” Youngjae mouths at Yongguk, incredulous. Oh man- Youngjae is having trouble keeping his face from contorting into a grin -- _Oh man_ , Yongguk is actually, honest to god, he is _actually_ blushing.

“He was...Well, I mean, you don’t need to be so formal with Himchan and I either… I mean, if…” Yongguk trails off, while making a slow retreat back into the living area

“Shall I call you _hyung_ , Yongguk Sunbaenim?” Youngjae asked innocently, and then can’t help the laughter that escapes as Yongguk looks to be in full blown panic now. He wonders if it’s impolite to sneak of photo.

Youngguk mumbles something along the lines of _if you want to_ , and _Himchan will be here in a few hours_ and all but flees back to the living area.

 

 

 

Even though Yongguk decided to take a break from active dream crime after the Banker job, he did make sure Youngjae was passed onto a good Extractor before flying to Paris to do dream related research. Himchan disappeared before Yongguk did, and Youngjae was left in the care of Song Jieun.

Youngjae only worked with Jieun Noona once before, Yongguk had ran Point that time. She was terrifyingly good at what she does. Yongguk and Youngjae barely had to do anything and the Mark all but happily spilled all his secrets to her in under twenty dream time minutes.

Under Jieun Noona’s wing, they contracted an offer to Extract undisclosed research information from a renowned micro-organism professor. A Chinese man, Ng, ran Point, and Youngjae spent alot of his time having Jieun Noona explain things to him in Korean while Ng blabbed on in Cantonese. A week into the job, Jieun Noona came into the their little warehouse with irritation written across her face. The Forger Ng brought with him had left for a better offer, and Jieun Noona spent half an hour on the phone speaking in quick fluent English and a further hour in even faster Korean trying to contract a new one. Eventually, she found Jung Daehyun.

Youngjae had never been on a job that required a Forger before he met Jung Daehyun, which is one of the reasons why their meeting was an explosive one. Another reason was that Jung Daehyun was the human equivalent of potassium waiting to be dropped onto a calm surface.

 

 

 

 

By the time Himchan arrived in the studio late that evening, Zelo is long gone, and Youngjae had already constructed two rough mazes that he can later fit the dream around. Yongguk was discussing dream settings with him when Himchan strides in holding takeout boxes.

“-restaurant for the second layer” Yongguk was saying, when Himchan interjected “Nah, restaurant won’t do, has to be a banquet hall at least. Do you ever turn on the lights, Bbang?” while he placed the takeout on the counter and tugs off his jacket. From a pocket he produces a flashdrive, “Youngjae-ah, catch.”

He caught it and inserted it carefully into his laptop. Himchan had produced some chopsticks magically and is making Yongguk eat. “Did you read the case files, Youngjae-ah?”

“Y-es,” Youngjae says as he nibbles on the joint of his pointer finger, loading up the flashdrive. It contained very detailed pictures of what appeared to be a private health center crossed with a back alley surgeon’s workshop. “What is this?”

“For the first layer of K’s dream. First things’ first though, pop quiz, gotta make sure you read the files I slaved over preparing.”

“Our employer Takashino received an anonymous tip four days ago warning him about the possible assassination attempt on his fiancé Lady Jun before their wedding in less than three month.” Himchan nods as he goes over to the windows and tweaked the blinds. Tokyo is slowly lighting up as dusk descends. Rectangles of soft glows falls demurely into their darkened rooms. Youngjae continues, half his mind on the pictures he was just given.

“The tip came with an audio file as proof. It appears to be part of a phone conversation between two native Korean speakers discussing Lady Jun’s schedule before the wedding. We are tasked to find the assassin and you narrowed the choices down to three hit-men: Lee, Park and K."

Yongguk throws a questioning look at Himchan “How was-?” but Himchan waves him into silence.

“I eliminated Park today, we don’t have to worry about her.”

If possible, Yongguk’s knitted eyebrows twists even tighter “-You _elimin_ -”

“From our investigation I mean,” Himchan interrupts, flaps his hand at Yongguk again for silence. He is worried, Youngjae realises, even more strung up than Yongguk. Himchan had always been the better actor. A tingle of anxiety rushes up his spine. Something is seriously wrong to be able to worry Himchan.

“I got Intel that K leaves for Thailand in three weeks’ time, we might be forced to try and find a window before then. Also I was right about the company he usually keeps.” He must have noted Youngjae slightly confused expression, because he explains, “Mob assassin, used to dealing with heirs and such like. There’s a reason why we have an all Korean team this time, you know. Our marks are most definitely armed, both mentally and physically, any bit of suspicion and we’ll be blown into pieces, and then again after we wake up.”

Understanding blossoms in Youngjae, but with it also a sense of distortion. He thought he was here because they wanted him to build the dream but Himchan’s words are putting things into a less welcoming light. The newer generation of the mob families are beginning to seize power from the previous generation. It’s not surprising that one of them may have set their eyes on the union of the daughter of a once wealthy Korean family and an influential Japanese Yakuza leader. And, just about all of the new generation are wealthy, influential, and above all, beautiful young men and women. To be able to fit into a dream full of projections of that kind of people...

Himchan is still talking, but Youngjae had stopped listening. “So what you’re saying is,” he says, cutting off the other man and tasting disgust on his own words “You choose me for my looks. You want the group average to be attractive enough so that K’s subconscious don’t want to kill us on sight, is that it?”

Himchan looks up at him with annoyance painted across his sharp features, and, to Youngjae’s building fury, contrived to suggest with one raised eyebrow that Youngjae was acting like a spoiled six-year old that was given socks for New Years.

“We took the man best for the job, Mr. Yoo”

“Well, I’m glad you think I am _the best man_ to whore out inside someone else’s head!” Youngjae is shouting at the end of the sentence. Himchan’s face froze solid. Tokyo’s night lights filter in through the blinds and hit Himchan’s face in wavering stripes of blues and reds, making him look like an ice sculpture all the more. Youngjae can see Himchan’s jaw working and Yongguk reaching out a hand to cover Himchan’s pulse point in a restraining movement. He's crossed some kind of line, but that thought is a tiny insignificant shard of cold clarity in a sea of burning anger.

He turns without waiting to hear what Himchan has to say and leaves for his hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapters length increases exponentially.  
> guess who K is


	4. Critical Stress

Yongguk’s grip tightened on Himchan’s wrist in warning, but Himchan makes no move to pursue Youngjae.

“You were unnecessarily harsh.” Yongguk comments as he releases him.

“He was being unnecessarily childish.” He bites back, turning away to stare out the window, watching Youngjae disappear into a taxi. Sometimes, as now, Himchan is hit with the need to do something wild and uncalculated. Spend all his money, love a stranger, shoot someone important, jump out of this window.

Himchan realizes how stiff he is when Yongguk comes up behind him and places his arms around Himchan’s waist and drops his chin on Himchan’s shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” He whispers.

Himchan closes his eyes and lets himself sink back into the embrace. Yongguk is careful with his touches. They come rare. Unlike Himchan, he isn’t comforted by skinship. If Yongguk is willing to comfort Himchan by indulging Himchan’s need for intimacy like this, Himchan had really let things slip too far.

“Is it that obvious? Of course it is, it scared away Jae.”

Yongguk hums an agreement. They both know for Yoo Youngjae, there is a thin thin line between fear and anger. 

“This job, something’s off.” Himchan confesses. “When I asked for the Jun’s schedules, Takashino flatly refused.”

He can feel Yongguk’s face form a frown. “I thought you have the schedules.”

“Of course I do, who do you think I am?” Himchan gives Yongguk’s arm a reproachful slap. “The point is, Takashino didn’t give it to me. He doesn’t trust us. He is either really smart or extremely stupid. I’m leaning towards smart right now.”

“Or maybe he has something to hide.”

“All of the above, most likely.”

At length Yongguk untangles himself. “Feel better?”

“Functional.”

Whatever Yongguk is going to say was interrupted by a buzzing from Himchan’s phone. Himchan slides it into speaker.

“ _Hyung what the fuck,_ ” Daehyun’s voice yells out at him as soon as it connect. “ _Did you forget to mention to him I’m monitoring his girl for the job?_ ”

“Taka-?? No, I didn’t tell him. He doe-”

“ _Well, he’s trying to fucking kill me right now so, if you can send some help?_ ” Daehyun’s voice is still raised. Judging from the background noise, he’s on a motorcycle.

Yongguk is already halfway out the door, tucking a gun in the waistline of his jeans. Himchan tosses a phone and an in-ear comm at him, and they land in his palm moments before he is rushing down the hallway.

“You still have the tracker?”

“ _Yeah- Fuck, fuck fucking running out of gas-_ ”

“Okay, Yongguk’s on his way. Stay on the line and update with me. Try to stay alive, yah?” Himchan places the phone down and deftly opens his laptop. He brings up the tracking programs on both Daehyun and Yongguk. “Bbang. Copy?”

“ _Copy_ ,” the lower half of Yongguk’s deep voice doesn’t register over their comm, blending in with the background rumble instead, his voice sounds flat and impersonal.

“Head over to Higashikurume. I’ll update you when you get closer.”

“ _Copy_.”

On the screen of his laptop, Daehyun’s little dot stops moving.

“Dae?” Himchan breathes, not daring to be too loud. There’s still street sounds coming from Daehyun’s end, but Himchan can’t tell if the heaving breathe he’s hearing is from Daehyun or an attacker.

A crunching sound sounds suspiciously like a nose cracking under pressure. Himchan’s stomach is suddenly a void, dread tinkling up his ribs. Daehyun’s dot is still unmoving in a narrow space between some buildings. Shit shit sh-

“ _Hyung, I had to ditch the bike_.” Deahyun sounds winded, but articulate enough to rule out a broken nose. The dot starts moving, judging by the speed, Daehyun is trying to blend into the masses on foot. Mostly likely he has earphones in for the call. “ _I lost most of them, though. You should have seen, that was some 007 shit right there._ ”

“What was that sound just now?”

“ _Had to deal with the ones that managed to keep up._ ”

“Alright, rendezvous with Yongguk in twenty five, maybe less. I’ll try to get you some place you can walk to”

“ _How about maid café, I’ve nev-_ “

Himchan’s not-on-job phone buzzes. He freezes. Not many knows his number on that cell. Briefly, he considers not answering, but the number on caller ID is a familiar one. He checks that Yongguk is still speeding down the highway and mutes input on Daehyun’s line before picking up Jongup’s call.

“This better be an emergency Moon Jongup.” Himchan hisses, fingers tapping a steady rhythm over his keyboard as he attempts to find a safe location for Daehyun.

“ _Hyung, is Junhong still with Yongguk hyung?_ ”

Himchan frowns, he never heard Jongup actually sound worried before. “The Chemist?”

“ _Yeah, Zelo. He left this morning to run tests with Yongguk hyung, but never came back to the hotel._ ”

“No I- Did you come to Tokyo with Zelo? What the fuck, do you know how dangerous this shit is?”

“ _Hyung, where do I go?_ ” Daehyun’s voice rings out from the phone still on the table.

“ _Himchan hyung, please, I’m really worried_.” Jongup urges on the other line.

Himchan grits his teeth, why is everything getting fucked up the ass at the same time? “Hold on for me, Uppie, okay?”

He mutes input on Jongup, opens up Daehyun’s line again. “Shopping mall three intersection East and two intersection North. Update me when you arrive, okay?” Without waiting for a reply he breathes into Yongguk’s line. “You were listening?”

“ _Yeah. Zelo left close to two hours ago. I offered a ride but he said it’s a short transit back to his hotel._ ”

Himchan feels a headache coming on. “Alright. I’ll text you Dae’s location. I’m leaving to find our Chemist. I can’t keep three comms open.”

“ _Got it._ ” Yongguk disconnects.

Himchan jams an earphone into Daehyun’s line and sticks the bud into his left ear. He throws on his jacket, and with more care, conceals his Berettas under it. His laptop is thrown into his shoulder bag. With one ear still on Daehyun, he holds Jongup’s line to his right ear as he performs a quick parameter check before leaving the studio.

“Uppie, still there?”

“ _Yeah._ ”

“Put on a mask and cover your face with a hat. Remember what I told you about ditching tails? Okay, go to the closest night club you can find and text me the address when you get there. I’m on my way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short thing about what happened between ch4 and ch5 can be found here -> http://archiveofourown.org/works/4857497


	5. Theories of Failure

Yongguk reads over the texts again, sent from an unfamiliar number.

 

 _> oppaaa buy me some cigarettes_  
_ >oppa lets eat ramen @ xxx mall~~_  
_ >got us a hotel room @ xxx- xxx-street hehe_  
_ >call me by my special name okie oppa??    _  
_> dont u call me princess or i’ll b angry = 3 =_

 

He looks up from his phone, outside the right mall. He guesses he has to find Daehyun at one of the ramen stalls inside.

“Buying cigarettes” is their operative phrase for the Takashino Job. Yongguk understands that Himchan is paranoid that their employer might be working against them. Since Himchan’s work phone number was left with Takashino, the Point Man has every right to suspect that that phone might be monitored. Yongguk admires Himchan’s resourcefulness. How he managed to find a clean number to text Yongguk with while still speeding toward Jongup, he can only guess.

But still, a bit excessive with the encrypting.

He pretends to admire some earrings at one of the stores, while holding his phone up to hide his face, his eyes make a quick scan of the many reflective surfaces of the jewelry store, checking for tails. The young shop keeper sidles up to him, bowing slightly and making hopeful faces, telling him _wah you are so handsome, your face shape will go so well with these,_ and, _your girlfriend would love these, they are so fashionable_. He buys a pair of triangular ones in short sentences, smiling at her to glaze over the fact that his Japanese is only slightly better than his passable English.

He hides himself within a crowd, then slips into a clothing shop. He come out with a snapback covering his face and a hoodie replacing his trenchcoat. He stands in a corner and pretends to text as he lets the two men in all black and with suspicious bumps under their jackets move past him with the crowd. Amateurs. They are even turning from side to side to scan the faces around them.

 

 

Yongguk finds Daehyun having ramen like he hasn’t got a care in the world.

 

 

He lets Daehyun hotwire them a car and speeds toward the hotel that Himchan texted him.

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Naw, knuckles a bit bruised, no big. You wanna know what happened?”

“I - Yeah. Go ahead.”

“I got enough to forge the fiancé, no worries, but, you know how I got into her bodyguard team? Well, it turns out she has two teams of bodyguards. She has a personal one that was screened by her family, and another team assigned to her by the husband. She’s not all that happy about marrying, I think. She told me to have dinner with her and cried on my shoulders about how lonely she is.”

“She asked you to have dinner alone with her?”

“Yeah, right? I mean it could be my irresistible charms, but I think she’s just grabbing at straws now. She didn’t have one appointment with any Korean friends during my week there, but spent most of her days meeting Takashino’s rich Japanese acquaintances. The woman doesn’t even speak Japanese that well. Anyways, she started clinging to me when I told her I’m from Busan. After I had dinner with her today, the Japanese bodyguards tried to gun me down as soon as I was out of earshot after I dropped her off at the mansion and carded out.”

“Well, Takashino _is_ worried someone Korean is trying to kill her.”

Daehyun hums, tapping the dashboard absentmindedly.

They ditch the car somewhere without street cameras and goes the rest of the way on foot.

 

“ _Aka-Daikon_ , doesn’t that translate into…”

“Red Radish, yeah. Come on hyung.”

Their hotel is just a small sign over a very narrow stairway. Yongguk can feel his uneasy writhing in his stomach. Himchan should have checked in with him by now. His in-ear comm is the safest channel of communication, but it remains deathly silent. Himchan is not a fighter, maybe Yongguk shouldn't have let him go find Jongup and Zelo on his own.

Daehyun, a smile stretched wide across his face, leads him up the stairs into a dimly lit-but extremely well furnished reception area.

The receptionist, an elderly woman, bows at him, and he asks for a room booked under Chan. As the Aunty looks through the bookings, Daehyun wiggles into Yongguk’s personal space and starts giggling. Yongguk looks down into Daehyun’s flushed, happy face. God damn Forgers and their acting abilities. Yongguk just wishes Daehyun would consult him before playing at this pretending to be lovers rouse. The Aunty hands him a key, smiling.

 

Their room is just that. A room. One room. With one bed. A very large, red plushed bed. The lights are so dim they might as well be off. It has a faint pink tint to it. The carpet on the floor is so soft Yongguk sinks a few centimetres.

“Did-did Kim Himchan direct us to a love-hotel?” Despite all the evidence in front of him, Yongguk had to ask.

“Well,” Daehyun answers, apparently unflustered- damn kid probably realized as soon as he saw the sign, Yongguk realizes-, begins to check parameters as Yongguk scans for surveillance, “it is the logical choice to make. I mean, these kinds of places are tighter than a virgin’s arse in terms of client confidentiality and don’t bat an eyelid to two males sharing a bedroom. Plus they don’t have as much video security ‘cause… _well_. Also, soundproof.”

He turns around at the sound of Yongguk putting the safety on his gun, then turns back to check the locks. “Himchan is like, the best Point Man this hemisphere, he literally thinks in lists of pros and cons. This place probably totally appealed to his Point Man sensibilities.”

Yongguk sighs, nodding. He had sat down at the very small desk in a corner of their extremely rouge room after making his sweep. “Himchan is also somewhat of a dick, so this situation probably really appeal to his Himchan sensibilities too.”

Daehyun snorts, amused, and makes an air quote “ _’Somewhat’_ , ha.”

As Yongguk deftly begins to disassemble his gun, wanting to maintenance it while they are still in the temporary bubble of safety, he debates whether he should ask why Daehyun knows so much about love hotels, then decided that there are some knowledge are too dangerous for the common public. Not that he is part of the common public, but he does like his relatively untainted sanity the way it is. He can think of a lot of things he would rather witness rather than listen to Daehyun’s frequently very graphic descriptions of his very extensive love life—like puppies being kicked, the beginning of Up, videos of dental procedures, for instance.

He realizes his mind is wandering, trying to fill his own head with meaningless chatter to avoid facing the unavoidable, his own shame, his failures.

Daehyun was almost killed by their own clients because of the mission Yongguk himself gave him. Their Architect is angry, insulted, terrified and ready to blot, and frankly Yongguk can’t think of one reason to stop him. Their Chemist-oh god, a child of nineteen year- is missing, Jongup is only involved because Yougguk called away Zelo and…

and his comm is still silent.

His gun is disassembled, each part perfect yet worthless, easily broken, lost, destroyed. Laid out like this, the gun has no purpose, evil or good, important or trivial. It’s just, nothing.

Yongguk stares at it, his hand palms down, flat against the tabletop, and he can’t lift them. His arms seem to reflect the soft pink light of the hotel room, like marble, like those Greek heroes that have veins on their marble arms and nothing to cover their tiny marble dicks. His heart is working in overdrive trying to beat life into the granite that is replacing his fingertips, forearms, chest. His breath quickens as he tries to expand lungs that now weight more than he can carry – in, out, in, out in out in outinoutinoutinoutin-

Hands land on his shoulders. He flinches, his skin is covered in a thin layer of sweat, slightly sticky, his muscles are sore. Yongguk lets the hands on his shoulder- Daehyun’s hand, rubbing circles in his back – ground him back into his sore, tired body. He takes up responsibility for his aches, because that moment of petrifying panic was more terrifying than any pain he had experienced.

He starts cleaning and reassembling his gun, Daehyun still working his shoulder muscles slowly. He stops when Yongguk’s breathing slowed enough to match his movements.

“Hyung…”

“I know.” He pauses before turning to Daehyun, “you should sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

Daehyun gives him a Forger’s look. Memorizing each line on his face as a key to his thoughts, motivations, demise.

“Alright,” He says at length, breaking eye contact, waving away the tension with a tiny smirk and making his way over to the only bed, “also, how did you know to ask for Chan, at the receptionists?”

Yongguk shows him the texts he received.

Daehyun somehow manages to frown without wiping the smirk from his face first, “Wow, you and Himchan hyung has some kinky shit goi-“

“It’s code, okay? We don’t- Okay look here, ‘special name’, that’s Himchan,”

“That’s literally what everyone calls him, because uh, it’s his actual name.”

“Not always. Anyways, I’m the only one that calls him Himchan, everyone else we know use honourifics.”

“The princess part?”

“Himchan think he’s funny and clever and well, Japanese for _princess_ is _hime_ , so _Himchan_ without the _hime_ is-”

“I can’t believe I actually sat here and listened to you explaining Himchan hyung’s extremely tasteless sense of humour.”

Yongguk feels a smile tugging at his lips, despite the darkness that still lurks below his skin, weighing down his muscles with its rocky indifference.

“Hyung, I should think up some _special names_ to call you too, all in line of duty of course. How about… Gukkie-boo.”

“Dae….”

“Oh but, we’re in Japan! I should call you _onii-san._ ”

“Daehyun, I swear on everything you love-”

“Oh, come on _onii-san_ , you always say we should treat distinctions in culture with respect.”

“I am almost three hundred percent sure what you are doing has nothing to do with respect.”

“Don’t be like that, I’ll even let you can even tuck me in,  _onii-san_.”

“Please don’t ever call me that again.”

“You can always screw me, I mean, we are already in a love hotel,” Daehyun blinks at him coyly from under long lashes, then bursts out laughing, “oh my god, hyung, your face- I can’t- I’m just messing with you-You’re fucking terrified- th- this is hilarious, ooh my fucking god--”

“I’ll keep watch” Yongguk sighs. He’s had enough of dealing with overgrown children for one day.

 

At four a.m., Yongguk is entering that state between fearful wakefulness and vegetative confusion caused by too many days of no natural sleep and too much sominacin induced uncertainty. He looks down at his hands and finds that he is no longer holding his gun, but toying with his totem, though he has no memory of taking it out.

He spins it between his fingers, around and around. The weight of it comfortingly familiar.

A cough sounds right in his ear. He freezes.

“ _Bbang, copy?_ ”

He had forgotten his in-ear comm is still wired in.

“Chan?”

“ _Yeah._ ” Himchan is hurt. Yongguk can tell from the breathing. There’s a slight hitch after each inhale and it’s pitched with suppressed pain. His knuckles whiten on his totem. It’s familiar weight suddenly not at all welcoming.

“Where are you? How badly are you hurt?”

Himchan chuckles, it sounds like he inhaled too much smoke, “ _Youngjae’s taking care of me. I brought along the kids too, but..._ ”

“But what? Are they alright?”

Yongguk can see Daehyun stirring, disturbing the puddle of night light that falls in a lazy sludge across the bed. One of his eyes blinks open, his gaze a question.

“ _Calm down, everyone’s fine. Well, mostly._ ”

A pause. _Mostly?_ Yongguk’s can feel an ache forming right between his eyebrows, probably muscle cramp from his eyebrows trying to twist together.

“ _We’re gonna have to change up with op._ ”

“No kidding.”


	6. Strain Energy

Youngjae had fallen into his bed as soon as he returned to his hotel, Himchan’s words vibrating inside his skull.

He awoke, somehow even more drained, in the secretive hours after midnight and before dawn. His anger had simmered and cooled into shame and fear, swimming in the forefront of his brain and exhausting what remains of his energy.

He’s not going to leave the job, he knows that with the same bone deep certainty that he knows the groves on his totem.

But the thought is tempting.

He drags himself out of bed and begins to work on his mazes.

 

 

He’s not all that surprised when a knock sounds at his bedroom window close to three am. He didn’t give his address to anyone yet, which means that it has to be Himchan. He grabs a kitchen knife off the counter anyways.

It is Himchan.

“Kim Sunbaenim” he greets warily.

“Save the bullshit.” Himchan tells him from the truss fire escape, “Help me in.”

Youngjae is too tired to be annoyed, so he helps Himchan in. The reach from the escape to his window is ambitious. Himchan gasps as Youngjae half carries, half drags him through the window, and they land in a tangle on the ground. Youngjae’s hand comes away from Himchan’s black shirt sticky and dripping.

“I-Hyung, is this blood?”

Himchan is already stripping himself of the shirt. Youngjae is only capable of staring dumbfounded at the gashes above Himchan’s hipbone, head turning from his own stained hand to Himchan’s torn flesh.

The metallic smell hits him and he jumps up, running to the washroom to grab the first aid kit.

 

“Were you going to attack me with a knife?” Himchan chuckles when he returns, gesturing to the kitchen knife he left lying on the ground.

“It could have been an attacker.” Youngjae says, ears flaming.

“Oh, and you were going to attack an attacker that knocks politely at your window with a kitchen knife.”

“You don’t get to talk when you’re so shit at avoiding knives.” Youngjae mutters, as he wipes disinfectant over the two shallower cuts. Himchan leans back and hisses between his teeth, but he lets Youngjae work. That’s extremely trusting of him, Youngjae thought, because he has no fucking idea what he’s supposed to do after disinfecting.

“Yeah, but these are _high quality knives_ , I would be insulted if someon-“

The door buzzes, and Youngjae almost spills the rubbing alcohol all over Himchan’s crotch. He reaches for his knife, just as Himchan’s phone dings with a text message.

“It’s Jongup and Zelo. Let them in, but be careful.” Himchan tells him, stilling his trembling knife hand with a touch.

 

The Chemist is slumped over Moon Jongup’s shoulder when Youngjae opens the door for them. They have one arm around each other in the classic ‘man helping best friend home after best friend got wasted’ pose, but Youngjae can immediately tell that Zelo is closer to unconsciousness then intoxicated slumber despite the lingering aroma of alcohol that hovers around the pair. Youngjae locks the door after them and helps Jongup carry Zelo into the bedroom where Himchan is sprawled on the ground pressing gauze on his leaking wounds.

“What happened?” Youngjae asks as they lay Zelo out on his bed.

Jongup carefully pries open one of the Chemist’s eyelids, peering closely. Even from the other side of the bed Youngjae can see how unnaturally dilated Zelo’s pupil is.

“Forcibly drugged with his own sedatives, I think.” Himchan comments from the ground. Jongup hums an affirmative. “He should be fine when it wears off.”

Youngjae wonders if he should continue patching up Himchan, but Jongup is already moving towards the Point Man, reaching for the first aid kit.

There’s nothing for him to do, Jongup is obviously more experienced in these things, and he doesn’t know how to care for the sleeping Chemist. He’s floundering, hit with the same sense of distortion as back in the studio. There’s nothing for him to do.

“Jae-ah,” Himchan holds his gaze for a moment before screwing his eyes shut as Jongup pokes at his cuts with more disinfectant. “Thank you.”

Youngjae scoffs. He feels an overwhelming urge to flee the room. “What for?”

“For being here. Put on some tea, I’ll join you once I’m cleaned up. We need to talk.”

 

Youngjae makes tea. He leaves a mug for Himchan and sips his own as he sits down in the living area, forcing scaling liquid down his throat. The burn distracts him from the murmuring of voices in the bedroom.

 

Youngjae looks up as Himchan shuffles slowly into the living area, and frowns, “Hyung, your cut isn’t dressed properly.”

“I know, I told Jongup not to do anything more than a layer of bandages.”

“What? Why?”

“The photos I gave you earlier, it’s a sort of underworld clinic. It’s mutual ceasefire territory for the various families, since all of them needs to get off-book medical attention at some point. Both our remaining targets know the place well.”

“Okay, I think I can do a pretty good layout based off the photos, but-.”

“It would be even better if you can see the place, right?”

“Yeah, but-”

“I know the owner there. I was thinking of using these” he waves at his poorly bandaged waist “as an excuse to visit him again… And I’m thinking of taking you with me to get a better look.”

Youngjae bites his lower lip agitatedly. It’s dangerous, and there’s really no need for Himchan to prolong treatment just for this, but he wants a closer look and he’s excited by the idea, and he knows Himchan knows. Damn him.

“That is the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard. What kind of Point Man are you.” Youngjae watches sourly as Himchan picks up his own cup of tea and sips, then slowly lowers himself on to the couch next to him.

“I’m a fucking amazing Point Man, and you love the idea.”

Even though his pallor is sickly bloodless and his eyes are swimming in bruising dark circles, Kim Himchan is still undeniably attractive. He looks like he might drop dead from exhaustion at any second, but Youngjae gets the distinct impression that even if Kim Himchan is to die right now, he would at least do it _stylishly_. What a dick.

Youngjae downs the rest of his tea, staring down at his non-descript pajama pants. Not for the first time, he feels completely, utterly inadequate. Powerless. It seems he’s never in control of his own criminal life.

Youngjae fidgets, then twitches slightly when Himchan’s large fingers slip under his jaw and gently lift his chin. He glances into Himchan’s eyes, bright and sharp despite the evidence of stress and fatigue etched into the skin around them, and angles his gaze down again. Heat is rekindling into his cheeks, and he feels like crying for the first time since he left behind his unpromising college career.

“Jae-ah,” Himchan says, “thank you.”

Youngjae gives a watery, flat chuckle “What for.” He repeats.

“For being here. Being so brave. For letting us use your room even though I haven’t told you anything and you’re scared. For trying to clean me up even though you hate blood.”

Himchan leans in and gives him a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Youngjae chuckles again, eyes closed because hell if he’s going to cry in front of Kim Himchan. “I’m not sure that I do.”

Himchan pats his cheek, opposite the spot he brushed over with his lips. “That’s my boy.” He says fondly.

Youngjae works to control the tingling inside his eyelids as Himchan lowers himself to lie down more comfortably on the couch, hissing and grunting obnoxiously when he puts too much strain on his wounds. He opens his eyes again when the Point rests with his head in Youngjae’s lap and his legs comfortably propped against the opposite arm rest.

“I feel like we had a misunderstanding earlier on in the evening.” Himchan says, somehow managing to sip his tea while horizontal.

“I wasn’t thinking right.” Youngjae murmurs.

“You weren’t.” Himchan agrees. He reaches up and strokes some of Youngjae’s bangs off his forehead. “You completely misinterpreted me.”

Youngjae stays silent. A shortlived flare of anger bursts in him, but there’s nothing left in Youngjae for it to burn.

“-but, I wasn’t being clear either. You know, you weren’t just the best man, you are the only one for the job. I honestly can’t think anyone else that can build for two targets within the timeframe I set and is smoking hot at the same time.”

“Hyung…”

“There’s nothing wrong with being attractive. It doesn’t take away from your worth as an Architect.” Himchan grips his chin again, forcing their gazes to intertwine. “This is your criminal hyung giving you a criminal survival tip. You need to learn to use your looks as a weapon instead of carrying it around like a burden. “

Youngjae doesn’t have an answer for him, but Himchan doesn’t seem to be expecting one in the first place. He fingers leave Youngjae’s jaw, and Youngjae knows that the moment- a more intimate and heartfelt moment then he realized -is now over. He wonders how many people got real advice from Kim Himchan.

“How’s Zelo doing? What happened after I left?”

“Jongup is taking care of him. I told him to get some sleep but I doubt he will.” Himchan says, “I think Zelo was intercepted on his way back to his own hotel, by what appeared to be a street gang. I’m not certain yet if they are affiliated with the families or the Yakuza, but I’ll find out. When Jongup and I found him, he was already drugged and being loaded to be transported somewhere.”

“Will you be able to find out where it was supposed to go?”

“Give me a _little_ bit of credit, will you? I got hurt, and Jongup got us out of there. Your place is the safest location I can think of so we came a-knocking. Oh, I gave Yongguk a call, he’ll be here in a few hours.”

“Alright.”

“So are you going to come to the clinic with me?” Himchan asks without missing a beat.

Youngjae sighs, somehow he feels cheated into the admittance “Yeah, I want to get a better feel of the place.” A sudden thought strikes him and he frowns, “Wait, if the clinic is mutual territory, wouldn’t the owner be sworn to secrecy? I mean, why would he even let you in, you’re a _professional information thief_.”

“Peniel and I go way back, before dreamshare. He, um, doesn’t know I’m in the business.”

“What does he think you do then?”

“Professional gold digger.” Himchan cackles. “Don’t look so shocked, it’s not even that far off.”

 

 

Youngjae goes and refills his mug. When he settles back onto the couch, Himchan is staring speculatively into the middle distance as he continues to use Youngjae’s thighs as a pillow.

“I think I can use the wounds to get to K.” he says after Youngjae’s second cup of tea is half drained.

Youngjae makes a questioning noise in the front of his throat.

“Peniel does a lot of the communications between the familes, since he’s bound by, well, threats not to reveal locations and such like to anyone, he also acts as a go between when familes have messages for each other. It’s like a common interest protection scheme working in Peniel’s favour.”

Youngjae frowns. “You want him to contact K for you.”

“Yup.”

“What are you going to do after? Just go up to him and say ‘hey, wanna take a nap with me?’? We can’t expose the team to him before dropping into dream space. That’s way too dangerous. The reason no one uses the Mr. Charles principle other than that madman Cobb is because _it doesn’t work_.”

“What if he voluntarily dreams with me though, under the pretence of another mission that he would want to do. Then he would willingly suppresses his own projection bodyguards.”

This gives Youngjae pause. “Would that work?”

“No idea, never tried it.”

“What ‘pretence’ are you thinking of.”

“I can say that I got these wounds from his rival, and I have information on that rival’s location, but he’ll have to extract it from me in dreamspace since it’s locked in my psych due to trauma."

Youngjae nods. The idea actually sounds plausible, mad as it is. “Who’s his rival?”

“Lee.”

“What?” Youngjae starts, “Our second target? The other one that might be Jun’s assassin? _They are rivals?_ ”

“Isn’t life interesting?” Himchan’s mirthless grin can cut rock, but it soon slips from his face in an ugly grimace. “Our original plan is to use our contacts in one of the massage palours K frequents to drop him into dream space there. It will be difficult since we’ll have to make quick, soft dreams, five real time minutes at most, to simulate him nodding off during a massage. There’s two problems with that plan: one, we’ll have to drop into dream space multiple times because we won’t be able to make an extraction in the five real time minutes. Two, his projections are going to be crazy and he’ll wake too soon if he’s shot out of the dream. However, neither will be a problem if we make him _want_ to dream with us first up top.”

He lasps back into a thoughtful silence. Then he sighs out “It won’t be easy to convince Guk, though.”

“Why not?” Youngjae asks. As the extractor, Yongguk should be overjoyed that they can force an opening on a protected target.

Himchan sighs again, his breath tickling Youngjae’s arm. “He wouldn’t want me to approach K first. How many times did you go under with Yongguk as the dreamer?”

“Seven jobs, I think, and countless times for pre-job building and such like, why?”

“How many times have his dream destabilize?”

“None? He’s one of the most stable dreamers I know, I’ve seen him hold base levels together while bleeding out.”

“Damn, I want a cigarette.” Himchan scowls slightly, sucking in the hollows of his cheeks as if he’s debating on what to say next. “I’ve seen Yongguk’s dream fall apart twice. It was hideous, I’ve never seen an environment deform so quickly outside of RPG’s.”

Youngjae’s can feel his arm tensing against Himchan’s collar bones. That can’t be right. Bang Yongguk? No way.

Himchan rubs at his arm soothingly, almost absentminded as he continues, “The first time was when we first met, you remember? When I shot you?”

“Banker” Youngjae whispers.

“Yeah, that one. After I shot you out, Bbang… It was weird. The dream just sorta broke between him and me, and that shouldn’t be possible. The floor cracked up and there’s this, blank white space, sliding in and swallowing up the reality. For a moment I thought my consciousness would just be erased with the whiteness, and that is definitely not possible… Bbang, he….he didn’t even notice, he was shaking you, yelling your name.”

“But-but why? That means- “

“Yeah.” Himchan stares up at the ceiling with blank eyes. “Yeah, he lost track of reality for a bit. Like you said, he has the type of mind that can really ground a dream, hold everything together and take on the extra unreal strain, but there’s one thing that scares him so much it throws him into panic and fucks with his mentality.”

Youngjae has a good idea what that thing is, but he asks to make sure anyways.

“What happened the second time, you said you’ve seen him destabilize twice.”

“Oh, this girl we were trying to extract tied me up, threw me into the trunk of a car, drove to the edge of the dream and tried to light me on fire. “

“ _What? The fuck?_ ”

“Honestly, I was rather impressed.”

They stay silent for a while.

“So, it won’t be easy to convince Guk. He’ll want to stay with the original plan because he’d rather self-sacrifice than let anyone else ‘ _get hurt_ ’, because he is ‘ _responsible for everyone_ ’. What a joke.”

“Most people would say that’s admirable.”

“Yeah, well. That just shows most people are idiots.”

Staring down at Himchan’s limp figure, with his hitched breathing and his thin bandages slowly seeping sweat and blood, Youngjae is inclined to agree. As acute as Kim Himchan is, he’ll never see that he and Bang Yongguk are different sides of the same damn coin.

 

Yongguk arrives close to dawn. He is by Himchan’s side seconds after Youngjae opens the door for him, examining his dirtied bandages.

“Why are you not patched up properly?”

“Where’s Dae?”

“What happened?”

“ _Where’s Dae_?”

Yongguk gives Himchan his sternest look. Himchan just raises an eyebrow back. Youngjae silently goes into the kitchenette to put on a fresh pot of tea.

He watches the two hyungs do their telepathic thing. Eventually Yongguk heaves a sigh and runs a hand through his hair. “I sent Daehyun to secure our studio.”

“Good thinking.”

“Now, what the fuck is going on?”

Himchan gives him a run through, Youngjae passes new tea to everyone and slips his thigh under Himchan’s head again.

“…So, if we work fast, Jae can finish up the dream in two days, and Peniel will set me up with K and we can force an opening on Thursday.

“Absolutely not.”

“Guk, think about it-”

“No, out of the question. We have more time to prepare if we go with Hana, and I prefer my Point not to be involved in a mafia war.”

“I’m not going to be involved in a mafia war.”

“I one hundred percent forbid you to expose yourself to a hitman offering information on another hitman that is on the opposite side of one of the biggest mafia wars in eastern Asia.”

Himchan opens his mouth to argue, but Youngjae weaves a hand into his hair and rubs at his skull soothingly. “Yongguk hyung’s right. It’s too dangerous”

Himchan gives him a down right murderous glare, while Yongguk shoots him a thankful glance before standing up and moving towards the bedroom. “I’m going to check on the kids.”

“We’re not done talking about this!” Himchan calls after him.

 _Yes you are_ , Youngjae thinks as Himchan mutters something about disloyal dongsaengs and pushes his scalp more firmly against his massaging fingers, _because you are incapable of actually disobeying a direct order from Bang Yongguk._

_Just like the rest of us._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm 10k words in and still spewing exposition.


	7. Support Conditions

When he returns to the studio in the late afternoon, balancing a bag of sweet pastries on the crook of his elbow, he is greeted by the sight of two of his teammates hooked up to the PASIV in the living area. Jongup peeks out from the kitchen with a greeting, and he nods hello, tossing the pastry bag at the younger man before unwinding a line from the PASIV and plugging himself into the dream.

 

He discovers Youngjae first, on of roof of the building he finds himself in. Youngjae is staring out into the cityscape that shifts and blur as the Architect tweaks it to his liking.

Wordlessly, he steps up behind Youngjae and slips his arm around him, watching the younger test out different hues for the streetlamps.

“You made incredible progress for such a short time.” He tells him, genuinely impressed.

“Thanks,” Youngjae’s cheeks twitch in a brief smile. He’s always so eager to be praised by his hyungs. “I was thinkin--– Himchan hyung, what are you doing?”

He pauses in the act of nibbling Youngjae’s neck and laughs warmly. “Showing my appreciation?”

Before Youngjae has a chance to reply, the sound of a gun cocking cuts through soundless cityscape. Both of them turn to see Kim Himchan with blond hair and narrowed eyes leveling a gun to his own temple.

Daehyun feels Youngjae’s elbow digging deep into his ribs the same time as Himchan shoots himself out of the dream.

Wheezing, he tries to dream himself a gun, but Youngjae is quicker, materializing a pair of handcuffs, wrenching his arms painfully behind him and cuffs his wrists together.

“Ow.” He complains, shifting out of Himchan’s form into his own to see if his smaller hands will slip through Youngjae’s cuffs. They won’t.

Youngjae dreams up glass panels around Daehyun too, which in Daehyun’s opinion is a bit of an overkill.

“Seriously? Jaejae, this is how you treat an old friend you haven’t seen for foreveeer?”

Youngjae just glowers at him impassively until Himchan re-enters the dream a few minutes later.

“Jung Daehyun,” Himchan seethes. “I could have fucking killed you, you absolute-“

“So it’s him?” Youngjae asks, dematerializing both glass cage and handcuffs. Daehyun rubs his wrists.

“Which other forger were you expecting, exactly?”

Youngjae doesn’t even grace him with an answer, instead he turns to Himchan and mutters “I’m going to work on the interior.” and disappears down the stairs stiffly.

Daehyun chuckles. “Little Jaejae really grew up. The cuffs he dreamed up were real solid.”

“Dae, you are aware of how dangerous this job is, right?”

“Yeah, so what? What would you have done if just now you found someone else plugged in with you up top? Killed them?”

“Tie them down and get some information out of them, more likely.”

Daehyun laughs good-naturedly. So, Kim Himchan is jumpy and doesn’t even trust Jongup to keep watch over him as he sleeps. Interesting. He shifts into a short blond girl he saw on the streets a few days ago and latches onto Himchan. “Oppa, let’s go see what Jaejae is building.”

 

Daehyun made sure, while setting the timer before going down, that he dreams for one real time minute less than the other two - just in case he needs a quick get away or feels the need to draw dicks onto the other two's faces. Apparently Himchan had noticed the timer because Daehyun wakes to find his torso and wrists duck taped to the chair.

 

“-and so,” Himchan is explaining “we’ll need you to forge Jun on the second level as a visual cue to his subconscious. You don’t need to approach him. I think just catching a glimpse of Jun will be enough.”

“That’s great.” Daehyun says, “I would love to hear the rest of your obsessively detailed planning, but can you please un-tape me first?”

Himchan gives him a look that is a cross between _what do you think_ and _serves you right_ before continuing: “In the eventuality that he chases after Jun, that is, you, Yongguk and Youngjae will act as distraction and I will be your extraction. This part needs to planned in dream beforehand.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, hyung, I feel like I’m in school.” Daehyun whines.

“The goal,” Himchan continues, with barely suppressed vengeful glee “is to use up the full three minutes real-time of the first extraction session so that our target wakes naturally as the sedative wears off.

“If I say I’m sorry, will you please cut this tape off me?”

Youngjae appears and sits down beside Himchan, casually munching on the pastries Daehyun bought. Daehyun groans at the unfairness of it all.

“I’ve never seen you two work together this flawlessly before.” he accuses miserably.

“Now, for the second session, we will start with the second level of the first session to lure his subconscious into thinking it’s dreaming deeper than it actually is.” Daehyun tries to concentrate on Himchan’s explanations, because he’s probably going to get a quiz on it later or something, but Youngjae is performing some kind of cuisine torture on Daehyun as he begins to make agonizingly satisfied faces while taking deliberately slow bites of Daehyun’s pastries.

“I hate all of you.”

Jongup sticks his head in from the studio area. “Hyung, Junhong’s waking up.”

Himchan is immediately on his feet, following after Jongup. That just leaves Daehyun, Youngjae, and a half finished pastry. Youngjae eats it, then daintily licks the oil off his index finger. Daehyun closes his eyes because wow. No.

“So,” Youngjae starts, tone exceedingly casual.

“You owe me four high quality Japanese pastries.” Daehyun informs Youngjae.

Youngjae levels a nonchalant glaze at him before starting again. “So, Himchan hyung wants you to train me.”

“—and it was really expensive! Wait, train you in what, forging? No offense or anything, but you’re not forger material.”

“He wants you to teach me to fight in a dream enviorment.”

Daehyun gapes at him. “What, you mean like, you can’t fight?”

Youngjae looks insulted, and Daehyun really doesn’t want the Architect to leave without freeing him first, so he hurriedly adds “I mean like, you’re a really great architect. I guess you didn’t really need to learn before now.”

Youngjae sighs, “Are you going to help me or not?”

“Yeah yeah, I’ll do it. But cut me out of this mess first.”

“Ha.” Youngjae says humourlessly, winding out two lines and jabbing one into Daehyun’s immobilized arm. “Nope.”

“You are such a little shit,” Daehyun tells him as his consciousness starts to slip.

The last thing he hears is Youngjae muttering, “Takes one to know one.” before the sedatives swallow up reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to upload this short bit before going on a short hiatus (because school).


	8. Support Beam

“Himchan hyung was limping.” Daehyun comments offhandedly, but Youngjae has always been difficult to bait into revealing information.

“He’s got it covered.” Is his only reply as Youngjae rolls his shoulders.

Youngjae dreamed up a dojo for them. It looks suspiciously like the one in the Matrix, where Morpheus tested Neo’s knowledge of Kung Fu. A smirk find its way to the edge of Daehyun’s lips involuntarily. There’s something endearingly sad about how Yoo Youngjae is still such a _-ha-_ dreamer, an idealist, despite having ran around one of the most exclusive criminal circles for the past quater-decade. He may strive towards the type of professionalism can cut gems with the edges of their suits, and spew enough cynicism to script three seasons of shitty American sit-coms, but the optimistic, rather naively hopeful essence that is Yoo Youngjae tints his every action.

Youngjae is scowling. “Are you just going to stand there all day?”

Daehyun raises a smug eyebrow and turns his back in a mocking invitation, closing his eyes to get a better image of the form he wants to shift into. When footsteps mark Youngjae’s approach behind him, he spins around, letting the image in his head cut through his morphic resonance as he lunges in a flat dive towards Youngjae’s knees.

Having to estimate Youngjae’s approximate location makes the dive awkward, but growing about ten centimeters and doubling his weight mid jump is what makes it especially difficult. Even so, he brings Youngjae down with little trouble. Youngjae didn’t even manage much of a side step before letting himself be pinned under Daehyun’s suddenly larger form with an indignant yelp.

“Wow, Himchan’s right, you really do need practice.” He says as Youngjae struggles weakly and in vain under him.

“Oh my god, please don’t speak Korean with that face, that’s just so wrong.” Youngjae tells him, apparently more horrified that Daehyun is wearing Laurence Fishburne’s shape so unconcernedly than his inability to free himself from Daehyun’s elementary choke hold.

“But Youngjae,” Daehyun slips into English easily. Morpheus’ voice is less rounded than Daehyun’s and slightly higher pitched, but weighted with more age and solidity. He keeps his expression serious and secretive while under him Youngjae becomes more and more flushed from Daehyun’s elbow pressed over his lungs and pure, blind rage “I believe you are _the one_.”

He sees the narrowing of Youngjae’s eyes too late. _Maybe quoting the movie is a bit excessive,_ Daehyun reflects as he curls into a pained ball around Youngjae’s unforgiving knee, _but at least he knows which parts to hit for maximum effect._

 

 

 

“Zelo.” Himchan greets the figure struggling to rise from the futon. Jongup hurries over with a pitcher of water and a glass.

“I’m Kim Himchan, Point Man. Do you remember what happened before… waking up?”

Zelo gives him a look as he accepts the glass from Jongup. “I am a damn good Chemist you know. You guys would be in big trouble if somnacin affects my memory.”

Himchan grins. He likes the kid already.

 

 

 

Youngjae isn’t exactly unfamiliar with fighting, Daehyun can see that. Interschool fist fights are common after all, especially for boys with a bit of temper, but Youngjae isn’t _practiced_ in fighting. His fists swing in wide arcs, powerful but too showy, ultimately ineffective as Daehyun repeated ducks under them. He’s light and he dodge well but he doesn’t know how to incorporate his other limbs in with his punches, doesn’t know how to recognizes his own numerous openings.

Those things he can learn on his own, Daehyun decides, because the one thing Daehyun had expected Yoo Youngjae to be proficient in, he is proving to be stubbornly un-intuitive.

“We are in a dream, you know?” Daehyun reminds him as he pushes his knee into Youngae’s stomach for the fourth time in as many minutes. Youngjae manages to curl and alleviate some of the force behind Daehyun’s hit, swinging his left arm out and around, fingers clawing towards Daehyun’s eyes.

Daehyun grabs his arm, pulls him off balance and has a knife at Youngjae’s throat in seconds.

“The whole point of fighting in dream space,” Daehyun tells the suddenly stiff figure frozen against the weapon that didn’t exist three seconds ago, “is that the ones aware they are in dream have distinct environmental advantages.”

When he lets Youngjae go, the Architect’s eyes are fixed on his knife that dissipates as Daehyun dreams it out of existence.

“Himchan doesn’t expect you to download Kung Fu into your brain. He expects you to think like a fucking Architect.”

 

 

 

Squinting at the pictures profited by Himchan, Zelo is quick to confirm that the group of people Jongup so deftly disposed of the night before were indeed the ones that abducted him on route to his hotel. Distractedly, Himchan nibbles the end of a pen while trying to decide on what to do with the two youngest dream thieves as they murmur quietly to each other. Really, Youngguk should be the one making these types of decisions.

With uncanny intuition, Jongup asks him “Where’s Yongguk hyung?”

“Out discussing the terms of our employment with our client.”

“Oh.”

He would like to keep Zelo in Tokyo with him until the somnacin batch is ready, but perhaps it is safer to keep their Chemist out of harm’s way. If he send them back to Korea now and have somnacin batch delivered…

It would be difficult with the timeline Himchan set, but he has a lot more contacts in Korea that can keep Zelo and Jongup out of trouble. No doubt Yongguk would approve too - he looked ready to adopt the kids when he came back from his first meeting with the Chemist a month prior. That means, finding a secure flight, a safe route to smuggle somnacin…

“Hyung,” Jongup interrupts his thoughts, “stop making that expression. There’s nothing you can do to make us leave Tokyo.”

 

 

Daehyun had expected Youngjae to spit angry words, maybe tackle him to the ground, or dreams up a gun and try and shoot him between the eyes. What he got was a tense nod, and a sudden sensation of wrongness with the environment.

Youngjae throws another punch at him. He blocks easily and dreams up a bamboo stick, swinging it towards Youngjae’s temple. Youngjae’s gaze barely flickered as he uses his arm to block - his arm that is suddenly encased in protective kevlar.

Grinning now that Youngjae is finally getting the point of the exercise, Daehyun drops the stick unconcernedly and swivels. When his arm come around again, he’s holding a large cargo knife. Visibly panicking, Youngjae ducks and, hunched and scrambling, clumsily picks up the stick Daehyun dropped and attempts to bash Daehyun around the head. His movements can never be called refined, but it is effective in its desperation. Daehyun find himself backing away as he attempts to block the wild, frantic swings of the bamboo. All the while the subtle wrongness of the dream nags at him, and he wonders if Youngjae is breaking under too much mental strain and unable to hold the room together.

Daehyun is just about to dream up his own far reaching bo-staff when his back hit the wall _-what the fuck-_ and Youngjae slams his stick across Daehyun’s ribs with a resounding _wack_.

 

 

 

“He’s right, you know.” Zelo supplies as Himchan stares at Jongup in shock.

“Okay, first of all, you are in a supplying contract with us. There’s nothing in it that says you have to be on site.”

“Junhong is. I’m not in the contract, so I am free to be where I want.” Jongup points out. “And I happen to want to help Yongguk hyung.”

“And I want to stay with Jongup hyung because, no offense or anything, he’s better at body-guarding than you guys.”

Himchan vaguely wonders if they prepared this speech in advance or something.

“Why don’t we-“ he begins before Jongup promptly cuts over him.

“Hyung, if you reach for the gun in your waist band right at the moment, I can grab the one you hid under Junhong’s pillow and fire the whole clip into you before you even get the safety off yours.” He shrugs none-committaly at Himchan’s one raised eyebrow. “We might be younger, but we don’t need protection, and we want to help. So let us?”

“Alright, alright, I don’t – you know what? Argue this out with Yongguk. I’ll work out a new pay scheme if he takes both of you on site.”

“It’s alright,” Zelo smiles, “I’ll spilt my share with Jongup hyung. Just get those people that drugged me last night, alright?”

“Why would I do anything for disobeying maknaes is totally beyond me.” Himchan sighs as he throws some candy at Zelo. “Eat that, get your blood sugar up and join me in the living room. Jongup, I have a job for you if you’re so set on staying in this mess.”

 

 

 

Youngjae waits as Daehyun gets his breath back.

“Okay.” Daehyun says after he stopped wheezing from his slumped position on the ground. “I give up, what did you do? I was at least five metres away from the wall and I couldn’t have taken more than three, four steps back.”

“You told me to think like an Architect.” Youngjae sounds almost indignant, like a stubborn child trying to put an explanation around his wrongdoing in an attempt to avoid punishment. He doesn’t seem to realize that Daehyun, who has no concept of fairness when it comes to survival, is in no position to scold him. “I had the parameters of the room do a gradual continuous decrease while we were fighting. I also shifted the walls so that the floorplan is more trapezoidal than square. The tapered walls fucks with your perception so you can’t tell the room is shrinking.”

“You intentionally backed me up, because I’m not expecting a wall so close behind me.” Daehyun is so impressed he might have tried to shapeshift out of pure excitement. “Holy shit, I’ve never seen anyone do that?”

“I guess people you meet knows how to fight and doesn’t have to use trickery.” Youngjae spits bitterly. “Hurry it up, we only have ten more minutes dream time.”

Daehyun decides to carefully sidestep Youngjae’s first statement. Himchan can deal with Youngjae’s inferiority complex later. “We can go up a level to make that an hour?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not letting you fight me in a dream you designed.”

“Your level of distrust really wounds me, Jaejae.” Daehyun puts a hand over his aching ribs dramatically “I’m really, wounded.”

“I didn’t mean it lik-“

“I know, I know.” Daehyun waves his hand in a whatever gesture, smirking slightly at Youngjae’s hurried backtrack “the feeling is mutual, if we are being honest here.”

Youngjae has the decency not to look affronted, despite the slightly vexed expression that seem to have taken permanent residence on his features whenever Daehyun is nearby.

“Alright, take us somewhere else. A dojo is cute for movies and shit, but I doubt that’s going to be part of the dream.”

“What kind of venue were you thinking of?” asks Youngjae.

“You’re the Architect.” Daehyun smiles, “Surprise me.”

 

 

“-Yongguk will be out until around six pm, so I want you to be back no later than five-thirty. We need to have a group meeting after the shit storm last night.”

Jongup nods. “Is Hana noona expecting me? I don’t know her that well…”

“Daehyun will go w- are they dreaming right now? I didn’t mean – I didn’t say to start _right now_. Jesus.”

Peering down at the two sleeping figures, Jongup comments “Youngjae hyung looks really…vexed.”

Himchan gives a long suffering sigh. “Just…start cutting Daehyun out of the tape, will you?”

 

 

Youngjae pushes the doors of the dojo open to reveal a sun filled, narrow alleyway. The architecture has a definite Mediterranean feel. Daehyun can swear there’s a slight saltiness to the air that whispers _ocean_ to him.

Youngjae is a really good Architect.

They step out into the sunlight, and when Daehyun glances behind him, he isn’t all that surprised to find a blank wall sitting innocently where the dojo doors had been.

“Well?” Youngjae elbows him “We have eight minutes. Are we going to fight here?”

“I thought something more practical.” Answers Daehyun, as the first of the projections rounds the corner into the alleyway. He grabs Youngjae’s shoulders and forces him down and through one of the dimly lit doorways on the side as the first bullets hit.

“What the - ?” Youngjae gasps as he scrambles to get behind an overturned table. “Suppress them! Why is your subconscious attacking us?”

“Attacking you, actually.” Daehyun answers, and unhesitantly shoots one of the gaining projection in the leg. “I’m just sort of along for the ride. It’s good on-site practice. You should thank me and call me sensei.”

“You utter fuck face-“ Youngjae yells at him as two more protections advances through the doorway.  
Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Youngjae furrowing his brows.

The two projections promptly vanishes as the floor disappears under them. Daehyun peers out and is greeted by the sight of an apparently void where half the floor is supposed to be. He turns back to a seething Youngjae.

“That was good, but like, not really smart.”

“What?” Youngjae asks, just before and a tank mows down one of the walls.

Daehyun grabs Youngjae again, and runs for it.

 

“You can’t change the environment that much, especially on the job when it’s not going to be you dreaming.” yells Daehyun as they run. “If the Mark’s subconscious is armed it will just pull out bigger and bigger weapons. You gotta, sort of set the traps before you pull your Mark in.”

“A dream level is to set an environment for subconscious hinting to gain information, it’s not meant to be a fucking death trap!”

“PASIV technology was developed in the military, it’s _meant_ to be a torture device.”

Youngjae trips. Daehyun cusses, and one of the projections levels his gun.

They both wake as the timer hits zero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been awhile
> 
> I realized this is getting ridiculously long, I'm trying to condense, aha.


	9. Resultant Vectors

Himchan bundles Daehyun and Jongup off to meet their contact in the massage parlour almost as soon as Youngjae opens his eyes from his first combat practice. However, Daehyun leans close as he is putting on this jacket and gives him a look that is too piercing for Youngjae’s liking.

“You don’t know, do you?” He asks, though his tone makes it clear he doesn’t need Youngjae to confirm the answer. “You can’t dream up guns or more complex weapons. You don’t know how to shoot.”

Youngjae’s face burns, and he makes no reply. Daehyun just sighs, “You should probably get Himchan to show you. He’s better at it than I am.”

 

>[18:20] Hey JQ  
[18:20] need a favour

>[18:20] tats; heard you’re in town; sup

>[18:21] just wants some info on gang activity in Tokyo

>[18:25] …  
[18:25] your not involved in anything weird r u? shootout last night ie

>[18:25] nah course not; just in town on biz and want to know  
[18:27] want to keep the kids safe ya know

>[18:28] what do you need tats

>[18:30] some info on gangs involved in that shootout

>[18:31] ill c what I can do  
[18:31] itll cost you tho; sorry bro

>[19:02] it always does

 

A slight clink of ceramics coming into contact with the table top indicates that Yongguk is probably resorting to caffeine as he continues to work through the night. Youngjae had thought Himchan was kidding when the Point promptly divided them into pairs when all six gathered in the studio again, and told them he found them all new accommodations.

He wasn’t kidding. And Youngjae had stared at identical key cards he and Yongguk were handed, while Zelo and Daehyun whined and complained.

“But hyung, Jongup hyung and I-“

“-stuck with babysitting? I have to leave early to find my next target to forge—“

They were both silenced as Yongguk raised his right hand in a _hold up_ gesture.

“Explain.” He nodded at Himchan.

“As all of you know, several members of this team were attacked last night.” A slight pause, “I fear this job have unclear aspects that may endanger us. Therefore, we are going to adopt a more traditional form of Dream theft-“

“A more traditional form?” Zelo’s voice betrayed his inexperience in the field, but Youngjae was glad for the question. He had no idea what Himchan meant either.

“He means a more militant approach.” Daehyun supplied, eyes hard and unmoving on Himchan.

“A more systematic way of tracking each other’s movements while we are in the planning stage.” Himchan replied, unfazed. “Adapted from the military dream-mission procedures, yes. As Point Man, I will be in charge of your safety.”

Not for the first time, Youngjae wondered who – or what- Himchan was before Dreamshare.

“Zelo, you’re with Daehyun because Jongup isn’t as experienced when it comes to decision under duress. For the same reason, Jongup is staying with me and Youngjae with Bbang. I can keep an eye on Jongup and he can keeps me from getting shot, Youngjae is probably the only one that doesn’t drive Yongguk insane, and,” He pauses and wets his lip, “I trust Daehyun to keep our maknae safe.”

The flicker of Himchan’s gaze towards Yongguk was almost imperceptible, and so was Yongguk’s minuscule nod of approval. But it was there. Youngjae had wondered if the approval was for Himchan’s overtly paranoid planning or for the decision of trusting Daehyun.

“I want voice message updates through wechat before and after any errands you ran and every time you check into your hotel. “ Himchan adds before letting them go.

 

The digital clock is blinking 3:23 AM at him. His mind hovers between consciousness and uncaring slumber. The living room lights are still on. That means Yongguk hyung is still doing something or another. Youngjae briefly considers telling his hyung off for neglecting rest, but the thought swims sluggishly in the forefront of his mind with no hope of making it to his vocal cords in a coherent sentence.

He rolls over instead, trying to push his mind into deeper sleep. But exhaustion is both an anesthetic and a simulant. The day’s events march up and down in his mind, bleeding into one another as he tries to find a more comfortable position to place his right leg. He dreams of building plans and mazes and soldiers trapped inside their own minds.

 

 

 

Himchan closes the door as he steps into the rather lavish hotel room, his red-orange hair the only splash of colour against his all black attire. Suddenly, Younjae is reminded of Daehyun telling him he isn’t forger material. While he is always in suitable clothes that fits the dream environment, he can never changes anything about his physical self. In contrast, Himchan always has brightly dyed and implacably styled hair and a sharp jaw line that smooth into beautifully hollowed cheeks even during practice dream runs, while up top his black hair flops into his eyes that betray his exhaustion more often than not. Youngjae is pretty sure that Himchan is a few centimeters taller in dreamspace too.

“I need help.” Youngjae admits.

“In?”

“Dreaming up complex weapons, I never shot a gun in the real world so the guns I dreamed up don’t fire. I don’t understand how they work.”

Himchan reaches behind him and brings his gun out of his waistband. “Like this.”

“Hyung, that’s not helpful, I need to know how to make guns. If I can arm myself while coming down to the dream, I would have.”

“Did you think I had a gun when this dream session started?”

Youngjae pauses, trying to remember, the beginning of dreams are always hardest to recall. Himchan had turned around to close the door and… There hadn’t been anything clipped to his belt.

As soon as he recalls that image of Himchan’s black dress shirt tucked uninterrupted into his dress pants, Youngjae is hit with the inexplicable belief that his eyes were wrong, that Himchan had always had a gun.

The Point Man chuckles.

“Mind,” Himchan says, reaching over and tapping Youngjae’s temple “over matter. Shape reality instead of perception. Truly know that your understanding of reality _is_ reality.”

“What does that even mean?” Youngjae almost whines. “Why do you have so much control over _my_ dream?”

“Ha. I’m just really amazing. Also, it means that the idea of the gun is more important than the actual function of them. You’ve made buildings that have taller interiors than exteriors right? Then you know that it’s the idea of the building that makes it reality, instead of the perception of it. You need to convince the collective dreamspace that ‘ _this is reality. The reality is that I’ve always had a gun_ ’.”

Youngjae’s hand is straying towards his lips, but he holds it out instead. He itches to bite on something as he concentrates, letting Himchan’s voice sooth his mind- “Condense reality into ideas, and let your subconscious do the creating.”

The sky outside turns a soft purple as he focuses on his palm, imagining a weight there, a weight that he can use to defend himself and his crew-mates.

A gun appears, but the trigger doesn’t move when he tries it. It’s the right shape, and that’s about all it is.

“Hmmm,” Himchan says, “Ok, let’s try something else.”

 

One dream level deeper, Himchan leads Youngjae into a storeroom in Himchan’s own subconscious. Blueprint paper are stacked upon rows of shelve.

“How do you know all this?” Youngjae asks, unfolding rolls and rolls of weapon blueprints and spec sheets. “And what is this place? A memory storage unit in dreamspace?”

“Something like that, yeah. It’s called Self Extraction. Make a place to store memories and facts and let your subconscious retain the data.”

“Yeah, but how do you know – is this a _submarine_? Why do you have blueprints of submarines?”

“These lips don’t kiss and tell.” Himchan winks at him.

 

Thirty or so minutes and several dozen blueprints later, Youngjae is able to dream up military grade weapons that works – much to Youngjae’s own amazement – perfectly. Himchan barks a laugh when his first shot shocked him so much Youngjae reflexively vanished the gun, then the Point leaves the dream after assuring him that Jongup is topside guarding his sleeping body, leaving Youngjae to his own devices.

He’s starting to understand what Himchan meant by condensing reality into ideas, because he can see so clearly how the blueprint in his head embodies the idea of the gun he holds, as he shoots another round into the target dummy he set up.

His aim is still miserable, though, and his arms ache from the recoils. He sighs, and changes his surroundings into the banquet hall for their first Mark. He wonders if he should add more curtains.

 

 

“Hi! I’m Jung Ha Na. Call me Hana noona, or just Hana is cool. I’m be your support on site.”

“Ah, hi?” Youngjae greets uncertainly as his hand is grabbed and shaken enthusiastically. “Yoo Youngjae, Architect.”

“Wow, that’s so cool! You kids start younger and younger these days, I swear. I saw some of your models, though. Really impressive I thought, Sunhwa was right-“

“You know Sunhwa sunbae?” Youngjae asks, utterly confused.

“I do have friends, you know.” Sunhwa, hair down and flouncing airily against her shoulders, walks into their studio following a harassed looking Himchan. “Youngjae, it’s been a while.”

“Y-Yeah, great to see you, sunbae.”

Sunhwa is the second Forger Youngjae worked with. Where Daehyun’s energy seems undrainable and his words loud and unchecked, Han Sunhwa is calm and not all together there. Where Daehyun has enough personality to flood an arena, Sunhwa is as vacant and as etched with silent anticipation as empty seats between sold out shows.

Vacant or not, Sunhwa is a successful and much sought after Forger, and she has the true Forger’s ability to pick up an entire profession within a week. Youngjae’s hopes of Daehyun being replaced were dashed as Himchan explains that Sunhwa will pose as a massage therapist alongside Hana on site.

 

 

Himchan had laughed when Youngjae asked him what Daehyun meant by “forger material”.

“You’re sense of self is too strong.” Was his only answer.

 

 

Youngjae spends an abominable amount of time in dreamspace as the mission date draws near. There’s too much to do, too many ways shit can fuck up. He practices grappling and shooting with Daehyun, works with Yongguk to give the dream a shape their Mark can recognize and start filling with his own mind, and listens and frowns and rebuilds when Himchan picks apart his designs with sharp criticisms and observations.

When it’s just him plugged into the PASIV, he drops himself down to the second level, then the third.

There’s too much to do, and not enough time. But on the third level, he can build for days and wake up in the real world only minutes later.

Once, when he’s almost out of his mind with anxious energy, he drops himself down to a forth level, embracing the fact that he might not wake up. Youngjae just doesn’t care anymore. He had wadded through the apprehension that built and condensed within him and stood on the tipping point and let himself fall face first, and all he knows for sure is the numbness of the freefall.

 

 

He found a forth level. A place he didn’t expect, even though he should have.

After he’s found it once, it isn’t that hard for him to visit _that place_ again and again. A dream of his own. A safe haven within a maze. A rose encased in thorns. 

 

 

 

When he wakes, Zelo is beside him, scribbling in his notepad. The Chemist looks up when Youngjae sits, dazed and un-balanced. He's slipping. There's just no way for his body to keep up when his mind had just worked for four long days in dream time, but his limbs only rested for six real minutes.

“You’re using too much Somnacin.” Zelo hands him some water and steadies him as he wavers. “This stuff is addictive you know.”

“When this job is over,” Youngjae croaks after forcing down a few sips “I will shoot the next person that comes near me with a PASIV.”

Zelo laughs. His lips fold back and reveal his teeth, one hand coming up to catch the sound as he coughs the laugher into silence. Youngjae spares a tired smile for the younger, but Zelo is peering at him with concern again, and his smile slips.

“Hyung, are you level jumping? That’s dangerous to do by yourself.”

“I need the extra time, I’m still not done building and the Drop is in two days-“

“Youngjae Hyung.” Zelo pushes at him “I’m serious-- These chemicals are just not powerful enough for you to dream stably on multiple levels. You might lose touch with reality!”

Instinctively, Youngjae’s hand strays towards his left pant pocket. “My totem is working fine.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the point- I…I’ll mix up a new formula for you.” Zelo bites down on his lower lip, clearly uneasy, “Something to help you jump smoother, yeah? Less strain on your mind when you wake up. I won’t tell Yongguk hyung you’re jumping if you promise not to go beyond the second level.”

“But-“

“Or I can go tell Yongguk hyung right now.”

Youngjae raises both hands in defeat. “I promise.”

It’s very obvious where Yongguk’s untamed fatherly compassion for this kid comes from, when Zelo beams his satisfaction at Youngjae. He feels like he needs sunglasses just to look at that smile.

“You should go get some real sleep. I’ll need a few hours to mix something up.”

“I need to meet Himchan hyung at the massage parlour for planning in a half hour.” Youngjae says “I’ll take Jongup with me. You’ll be okay here on your own?”

“Yeah.” Zelo answers, still grinning. “I don’t plan on making a habit of being kidnapped.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I changed the rating because I realized some of the descriptions so far are abit graphic and some of the later chapters can _in no way_ be excused as less than a M rating so 
> 
> (hopefully) end of hiatus! also, actual dream-crime will occur next chapter, please anticipate ; u;


	10. point mass

Every line of Himchan’s body seem to slouch comfortably, but the nervous jiggle of his right leg tells Yongguk that his Point is held together by nervous energy.

Youngjae volunteered to be the one that comes into contact with their Mark. Yongguk had protested, but Himchan sided with Youngjae, pointing out that the one with least years in criminal circles will have the least chance of getting recognized.

That is why Youngjae is in the next room, naked from the waist up, getting a massage from Sunhwa and slowly driving Himchan insane. At the end of the day, Himchan will stick to his pros and cons even if his emotions stray in the opposite direction. Yongguk is all but too familiar with that, and all but too familiar with how it rips Himchan apart. The man would rather have his concerns for his dongseang push him to an early grave than have Daehyun or Yongguk in there and risk the mission the slightest amount more.

Yongguk places a hand on Himchan’s thigh to stop its vibrating. He gives a squeeze when it doesn’t. Himchan’s leg keeps its nervous tap until footsteps approaching the adjacent room freezes its movement.

“Welcome back!” Hana’s voice ring out. She should be directing their Mark to the massage table next to where Youngjae is lying face down and turned away.

“Thank you, Hana. The usual?”

“Of course, Kikwang-ssi. If you will lie down, I will be right with you.”

 

 

Hana pokes her head through the curtain door two minutes later. _Mission start._

 

 

Lee Kikwang, more commonly known by his initial "K", peacefully slumbers with a warm towel dosed with Zelo’s sedatives over his eyes. Yongguk thinks he looks younger than he does on the photographs, even if the only part of his face that is visible is his lips that swell and pucker like Daehyun’s.

  

He walks over to Zelo, who has taken up his post next to the door.

“All clear, hyung. He has a friend with him but the friend went to the saunas.”

Yongguk nods. And goes back to the huddle next to K’s sleeping body. Himchan hands him a white line from the PASIV. The white lines, Zelo had repeated reminded, for the dream sessions because the one red line he prepared is dosed with hallucinogens and stronger sedatives and is for emergencies only hyung, I mean it.

“Ready?” Yongguk asks his team.

Daehyun laughs a “Roger, captain” while Youngjae gives a thumbs up from his massage table. Himchan just nods tersely. Jongup already has his line pressed in.

Yongguk presses down and dreams.

 

 

Himchan half carries, half drags his uncooperative body into the surgery.

“Doc!” Himchan’s voice is fraying at the edges, and his eyes shine under his blond fringe. “He’s taken a bullet in the ribs! Please-“

Peniel hurries towards them. Even through the pain Yongguk admires Daehyun’s forgery. Daehyun is Peniel, right down to the nervous raising of the eyebrows. Suspended between Peniel-Daehyun and Himchan, Yongguk is placed onto the surgery table. Facing towards the wall, he spies Youngjae hovering, face covered in a nurse’s mask, from the corner of his eyes. He keeps his head turned away, though, because on the bed next to him should be their Mark.

“Nurse, administer three hundred and twenty five milliliters of morphine to this man.” Peniel-Daehyun instructs, and Youngjae nods, syringe already in hand. Himchan grips his hand like a vice, large tears streaming down his face as if he is not monitoring how Peniel-Daehyun is moving towards their mark now, holding another syringe.

“Kikwang hyung, we need to reset your arm, this will knock you out for a little while, and Hoon will operate on you.”

“Of course.” K says, “is- is everyone else alright?”

Impossibly, Himchan’s hands tighten even more around his own. Yongguk doesn’t blame him. He didn’t think their Mark would take to the environment so well either. K is inserting himself into the narrative with the barest of prompts from Daehyun. So far, so good.

Peniel-Daehyun doesn’t miss a beat. “Everyone is fine. Just worry about yourself, hyung. We’ll get you patched up good as new.” He rubs alcohol onto K’s arm and stabs the syringe in.

Daehyun shifts back into his own form as soon as K’s eyes flickers shut, ripping off his medical mask and reaches under the surgery table for the PASIV hidden underneath. Himchan’s tears magically dries up as he goes over to help, hands already whipping out a walky-talky to contact Jongup. Beside him, Youngjae flicks the syringe and stabs some morphine into Yongguk.

“You good?” Youngjae’s hands are trembling, but the needle goes in without hitching.

“Yeah. Himchan knows what he’s doing.”

“Did he actually shoot you in the ribs?”

“Nah, barely a graze. Left side of stomach.”

Himchan reappears within Yongguk’s field of vision, steadying Youngjae’s hand as he pulls the syringe out. “One minute. We’re ahead of schedule.”

“How’s Jongup doing?” asks Yongguk, fingers brushing his left side for his totem.

“He’s fine.” Himchan flashes Youngjae a smile. “He says thanks for the traps you put in the maze structures, by the way.”

The smile Youngjae gives is weak at best, but when he accepts a white line from Daehyun, his hands are no longer shaking. Yongguk places a reassuring hand on his back anyways.

“You ready?”

“Yeah.” Youngjae answers, and this time, Himchan is the one that presses down on the PASIV and drops them down to a second level.

 

 

 

 

It is not a typical arrangement, having a Tourist hold the base level together. However, Jongup is a competent – if dull – dreamer, and he makes a living out of staying alive while being fired at, so Yongguk doesn’t hesitate to let him draw K’s subconscious security away from the secured surgery room that is their first setting.

Yongguk knows the importance of contextual subliminal hinting in a mission like this, where they are angling for clues they aren’t sure of in dark waters without a map. He also knows not to argue when both Himchan and Daehyun – the two most narratively inclined of his merry knights of the round table – insisted on all four of them to be on the banquet hall level.

“Himchan hyung should dream, because his style fits the banquet setting the most.”

Himchan had nodded, leaning back onto his chair and pushing his bangs out of his eyes. “And we need to plant three hints for him to take to the extraction level.”

“Right.” Daehyun’s pointer finger had jabbed towards Youngjae. “The lock combination;” another jab towards himself “forgery of the lady;” a final jab towards Yongguk “convince him to drink the sedatives.”

“Himchan can do that, though.” Said Yongguk. Zelo was fidgeting more and more as it became apparent Jongup would be needed in dream. “I can hold base instead of Jongup.”

“Hyung, you’re needed for the extraction.” Youngjae murmured while smoothing a hand down Zelo’s arm, and Yongguk felt the sudden flash of shame condense between his ribs. _Group mentality,_ he reminded himself, as he shied away from Himchan’s sharp glance with a nod, _mission first._

 

 

 

 

 

“Same again?” The glass in his hand feels heavy and solid, as do the totem in his pocket. Yongguk smiles at K, who gives a tired smile back with an even more tired nod. He really does look younger, Yongguk muses, or perhaps it’s just the golden glow of the chandeliers.

Kim Himchan has a way of dreaming cinematically. He dreams like the world is filtered for maximum visual enjoyment. The way light dances off the chandelier crystals and whisky bottles contrasts stunningly against the heavy cloth of Yongguk’s bartender uniform, and the slosh of liquor in the glass he pours for Lee Kikwang sounds like a beautiful promise. Yongguk always wondered if that is how Himchan sees the world, or if this is what he wishes the world to be.

“Hard night?” Yongguk asks, taking up another glass and polishing it. He spies Youngjae making his way gingerly through the milling suits and gowns, hair tousled and looking like a young heir.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” With one elbow propped against the bar, K takes a sip of his drink, idly eyeing the crowd.

He starts, and Yongguk caught the movement too, from a corner of his eye. The toss of long curls against a blood red dress – Daehyun’s forgery of Lady Jun Hyosung, the fiancé. Even with her back to the bar, the red of her dress draws the eye from the background of warm mahogany and gold and against the black of the men’s suits. Kikwang begins to stand, but Youngjae is suddenly there, inadvertently blocking K’s way as he approaches the bar.

“Whisky, on the rocks.” Youngjae orders, slipping onto the bar stool next to K and tapping the table top. K’s body is frozen in a tableau of hesitation, his legs tensed to stand, but he aborts the movement, and turns back to the bar, hand curling around his glass again.

Whisky in hand, Yongguk places the glass down before Youngjae and leans against the bar top between the two men. There’s a projection further down the bar but it’s looking around with suspicion, trying to pinpoint the dreamer and not requiring Yongguk’s bartending services. Youngjae hums tunelessly, fingers still tapping the bar top between slips of his whisky as Yongguk tries to make small talk with their Mark.

“Here on your own?” Tap tap tap. Sip. Tap tap. Sip. “Yeah, just, winding down.” Tap tap tap tap tap. Sip. “That’s good. Always good to have some down time.”

They lapse into silence, strained with the effort of three men weighing the effort of making conversation against the risk of being rudely mute. Tap tap tap. Sip. Tap tap. Sip. Tap tap tap tap tap. Sip.

“And what brings you here?” Yongguk turns to Youngjae.

“Waiting for my sister. It’s her birthday soon. March twenty fifth.”

“Lucky month to have a birthday, the start of spring.” Yongguk gives his best smile, picking up another glass to polish.

“That’s what my mother thinks too. Better to start your life in spring then end it in winter, she always says. Never figured out what that means.”

K gives a chuckle at Youngjae’s small talk, and Youngjae seizes the opening, his smile just the right amount of embarrassed “What do you think, Mister - ?”

“Son. Son Dongwoon” Lee Kikwang says. Yongguk pours a drink for a lady that waltzed past, trying not to frown. Giving a false name is usually a sign of distrust, but deep in the second layer of a hitman’s subconscious, it could be just K’s suspicious nature coming through, or perhaps a wish to assimilate, a desire to change who he is.

Problematic, either way.

Youngjae takes it in stride though. Holding out his hand to shake and dimpling charmingly, he introduces himself as Jaebum. Yongguk is more than impressed by the Architect’s performance – Lee Kikwang seems unopposed to friendly chatter, even if his eyes stray to follow the movement every time a flash of a red fabric appear through the thrones of projections.

 

Now they just need to keep K’s attention firmly contained on this bar for – Yongguk glances at his watch – two more minutes, until the sominacin runs out and the dream dissolves into sleep for their Mark. Yongguk pretends not to notice the increased antsy-ness of the projections. K is an assassin afterall, even Youngjae’s dimples are not enough to keep his subconscious from picking up on the unreality this close to the end of the dream.

Two minutes. They can do this.

 

 

 

 

They slip out of the dream softly. Yongguk catches a glimpse of K still sleeping gently under his towel and Himchan already hiding the PAVIS under the massage table as he exists to check on Junhong.

Lee Kikwang will be awake in a few seconds, and if all goes well, he will be dosed with sedatives again in two minutes, and they can start the second phase of extraction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said I thought I would be off hiatus for this story? Oh how wrong I was.
> 
> so far the mission is going really well. So far.  
> aha.


	11. random variable

The flush on Lee Kikwang’s face becomes more and more pronounced as the glasses in front of him piles. To his credit, his eyes are still sharp, and the only signs of the alcohol’s effect are his rosy cheeks and his smile, now more freely given to match Youngjae’s dimples.

This is Daehyun’s dream. A Forger’s dream that replicates the atmosphere of Himchan’s previous dream down to each beautifully constructed crystal on the chandelier. Yongguk is going to need his Point Man when they go down to the extraction level, and they have no need for a forger for the final deceit. Himchan and Yongguk both flatly refused to let Youngjae stay on a level full of murderous projections alone and Jongup simply does not have the skill to maintain Youngjae’s floorplans and imitate Himchan’s grandeur style of dreaming at the same time – so it has to be Daehyun that hold the base level of their second dream session.

Himchan watches from a distance, keeping half an eye on Daehyun’s forgery of Jun Hyosung – beautiful and charming – mingling with the increasingly suspicious guests. It’s his job to create a diversion if anyone looks likely to start stabbing Hyosung-Daehyun.

Lee Kikwang suddenly stands, eyes fixed on the vivid crimson of Hyosung-Daehyun’s dress.

-or, there’s always the possibility Lee Kikwang would try to approach Lady Jun – especially if he’s actually tasked with her assassination.

“ _Damn._ ” Himchan mouths as he begins to casually make his way to Hyosung-Daehyun, and when that doesn’t relieve his feelings – “ _Oh, fuck me._ ”

Back by the bar, Youngjae is saying something to Kikwang, and Yongguk is pressing a drink into Kikwang’s hands, but Himchan doesn’t pause to monitor them any further as he approaches Hyosung-Daehyun and gently takes her right hand. He sidesteps so that his figure blocks Lee Kikwang’s line of vision, and bows to her, bushing a light kiss on the back of her hand for the look of the thing.

Daehyun-as-Hyosung smiles and coyly steps into his embrace, tiptoeing to brush her lips against Himchan’s ear.

“Plan B?”

“Seems like it.” Himchan lets a warm smile seep across his jaw and his eyes melt with affection. He wraps one arm around Hyosung-Daehyun’s waist and steers her towards one of the darkened hallways branching off of the banquet hall. “Dream stable?”

“Yeah. No one’s opening fire anywhere yet, surprisingly. I’m honestly amazed your crazy plan is working.”

“What can I say, I’m a genius.” Himchan whispers back distractedly. He can almost feel Lee Kikwang’s stare burning into the back of his neck.

Half way down the thankfully empty hallway, Himchan presses Hyosung-Daehyun into one of the alcoves and kisses her. The feeling is bizarre, kissing a mouth that is changing its texture under his lips. When he pauses for breath, Daehyun has changed her forgery of Lady Jun Hyosung to – someone else.

A woman based off of Hyosung’s image, but less rounded around the eyes; thinner about the lips and sharper around the jaw. The same height and complexion, but less curved around the breasts. The forehead is just a bit narrower. Subtle differences.

Himchan is just leaning in for another kiss when a hand lands on his shoulder. He turns to face their Mark, twisting his expression into an appropriate mask to indignant surprise – but Lee Kikwang’s eyes are fixed on Daehyun’s Forgery.

“Ah- I apologize, I must have … mistaken this lady for someone else.” Kikwang murmurs, before crumpling onto the floor.

It seems that Yongguk managed to slip him a drugged glass of scotch. Thank goodness.

“Holy shit, it worked.” Daehyun says, an apprising smirk sneaking across his Forge. His eyes gleam, slightly manic  and more than slightly ecstatic. “I take back everything I said about you. You are a crazy motherfucking genius, hyung.”

 

They drag Lee Kikwang into an empty side room, and fishes out the PASIV hidden above the ceiling tiles. Daehyun is helping Himchan with the lines when Jongup slips in, followed by Youngjae a few moments later.

“Where’s Yongguk?” Himchan inquires

“Wiping down the bar.” Youngjae replies, equally tense. He accepts a line from Daehyun. And, almost reluctantly, as if embarrassed by his concern, he whispers “Y-you gonna be alright?” before clearing his throat absentmindedly and pursing his lips.

Himchan would have smiled, but nervous energy is coursing through his muscles like curing concrete. However Daehyun, as ever unaffected by danger, simply adjust his blood red dress to reveal more of his cleavage and winks oily at Youngjae “I’m always more than just ‘alright’ Jaejae. I’m an absolute delight.”

Jongup chuckles and Youngjae rolls his eyes with a small shake of his head. “A complete nightmare, more like.”

“Only to you, babe, only to you.” Daehyun laughs before Himchan pushes him out of the door to keep watch.

 

 

 

 

 

The second level of the dream barrows into Himchan’s gut like a sucker punch. He manages to swallow his sharp inhale but can’t help flinging out his arm to steady himself, meeting the reassuring bulk of Jongup.

“Hyung.” Jongup’s brows are knotted with worry, and he grips Himchan’s arm tightly, grounds him. “Hyung, are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Himchan takes in a breath. “Yeah, I’m good. Let’s find Yongguk.”

 

Time is of the essence, so they are taking the risky route. They are going to get the Mark to hand over his secrets himself. The set-up is wonderfully simple. Youngjae spent hours studying early twenty-first century imperialistic art-nouveau hotels that populated Asia when K would have just been just beginning his climb on the mobster ladders. A throwback to when Lee Kikwang would run information drops for his Family. He is going to hand over a suitcase full of his secrets right over to Yongguk, the buyer.

The tension is palpable. Himchan’s unnaturally sensitive perception to shifts in dream dynamics is only heightened by his familiarity with the heavy realness of Yongguk’s dreams. The man is unflappable, and his dreams are weighed down with the sincerity that saturates everything he does. His dreams always feels too concentrated for Himchan. Too overwhelming, too real. Now they are putting their Mark in a situation designed to make him antsy and hyper aware, and the environment begins to feed off the intensity of Yongguk’s subconscious.

Himchan’s stomach heave with the dream’s high-wire tension.

They find Yongguk in a semi-secluded sitting area in the bar of the lavish hotel moments before Lee Kikwang arrives with his left arm cuffed to a reinforced suitcase.

Himchan is supposed to be a body guard, so he keeps a hand on his gun and his gaze slightly averted from Yongguk and Lee Kikwang exchanging pleasantries.

As expected, Lee Kikwang is refusing to unlock the handcuff until Yongguk proves his authenticity by opening the case with a four number pass code that the real buyer would have been given. Out of the corner of his eye, Himchan sees Yongguk reaching his long fingers for the number lock.

0 – 3 – 2 – 5

_Three-hundred and twenty five milliliters of morphine at Peniel’s clinic. Youngjae’s fingers tapping as he drinks with Kikwang: three taps, two taps, five taps as he laughingly admits: My sister’s birthday – March twenty fifth._

The suitcase unlocks with a click, releasing the breath Himchan didn’t know he was holding. For a militarized man, Lee Kikwang is amazingly susceptible to subconscious hinting.

Now they just have to un-cuff the suitcase and read whatever intel is inside. Lee Kiwkang smiles, and pulls out a key from his pants pocket with his free hand.

 

Himchan has half a second to feel the shift in the dream wrench at his gut before Jongup dives bodily into both him and Yongguk, baring them to the ground as the lobby explodes with the ringing of semi-automatics.

Shit.

Lee Kikwang isn’t so susceptible after all.

 

Himchan barely registers Jongup removing his weight from Himchan’s back a second later, but he does hear the fucking disgustingly ineffective silencer Jongup is so fond of.

He forces himself onto hands and knees and surveys. The gun fire originates from the main entrance to the bar area, which means they have plenty of cover to extract the information and shoot themselves out. Youngjae is unhurt, crouched in the blind spots behind the semi-circle of fortified sofas he designed for this very purpose. Yongguk is already pulling out his own gun, but his eyes are trained on-

 

Lee Kikwang is sporting a blossoming crimson stain right below his third rib. He has just enough time to give a surprised gasp before Himchan surges up and strikes him surgically on the back of the skull with the butt of his gun. Yongguk catches him before he stumps all the way to the ground.

Jongup continues to covers them as they lay their unconscious Mark flat. Yongguk is trying to uncuff the suitcase – with a set of lockpicks he fishes out of his own pockets since Kikwang’s key disappeared– as Himchan presses on Kikwang’s steadily gushing chest wound. Youngjae hovers uncertainly, biting harshly on his knuckle.

Himchan catches Yongguk’s gaze with his own.

“Twenty more minutes before the kick.” Himchan answers the unasked question, and then adds, “he’s not going to survive that long, he’s going to wake up first unless we shoot ourselves out.”

“Then the entire mission is a failure, if we allow him to die in dream, he’s going to remember –“

“We have no choice! He’s bleeding out! I can go between levels and synchronize an earlier kick but I can’t do it before he enters brain death from blood loss.”

“If we shoot ourselves out, Daehyun has to stay in dream to keep it stable or else K wakes earlier than us anyways. I’m not leaving Daehyun behind so we can ru-“

“Daehyun can take care of himself—the important thing is to get Hana, Zelo and Youngjae out before he wakes up in the massage palour.”

“Your plan is to leave Jongup behind as well?” Yongguk spits the words at him, angry and cold, but there is the barest tinge of resignation behind the desperation. Himchan bites down on his hurt – flashing traitorous, sudden and unexpected - and stares Bang Yongguk right in the face and dares him to call him heartless.

Yongguk is panicked. The dream is still stable, but Himchan is versed in Yongguk’s dreams and can feel the thickening of the air as Yongguk is pushed towards making the only choice that is logical – the only solution Himchan can provide for him: leave two members behind to face the mess, get the ones that can’t fight out first. Minimize the damage, now that damage is unavoidable.

 

Kikwang’s breath is getting shallow beneath Himchan’s fingers, and Jongup is breathing hard even as he continues to calmly returning fire. Yongguk has to make the decision soon or there is not going to be a decision left to make.

 

“ _Wait._ ”

It is Youngjae’s hand that closes over Himchan’s own drenched in Lee Kikwang’s blood. “Hyung, I have a better plan. How early can you synchronize an early kick?”

Himchan checks his mental clock, ticking over three levels of reality “8 minute on this level.” He nods at the slumped figure under his fingers “I give him four or five before brain death.”

“That’s enough.” Youngjae says, jumping up and picks up a scattered butter knife, and proceeds to disembowel one of the sofas – from the depth of which he pulls out a PASIV.

Himchan narrows his eyes. “What are you planning?”

“If we get him down another level, his heart would slow to match third-level time, and he’ll survive well past eight more minutes. I built… another level. I can take Kikwang-ssi down to it, set the timer to eight. That gives you enough time to organize a new kick and for Yongguk hyung to memorize the intel. Kikwang-ssi will wake soft with slight disorientation.”

Himchan pauses just long enough to exchange a confirmative nod with Yongguk. “Do it. Prepare him. I’ll send you down so I know the exact time for the new kick.”

Youngjae almost trips over himself in his hurry to set up the PASIV. Yongguk goes back to his lockpicks and the suitcase, exhaling steadily as the lock begins to click. Himchan keeps his hands over Lee Kikwang’s pulsing lifeline, and Jongup -

Jongup lets out a pained whimper following the sound of a bullet piercing flesh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not the most well written chapter, but wah it's been a long time, hasn't it? I just really needed to keep this story going before I go crazy over the syntax.  
> #151115 leggo


	12. Modulus of Elasticity

Jongup falls the same moment as Yongguk’s lockpicks sticks and pries open the handcuffs.

 

 

The world seems to slow for Youngjae, the way the suitcase tumbles out of Yongguk’s hands is something he knows he will never forget. The ghost of a _clink_ as its edge bounces on the marble floor will be ingrained forever into his memory, even though he knows there’s no possible way he could have heard it above Jongup’s pained whimper and the booming of discharging weapons _. Clink clink_ – as the latch open and –petals?- spill from its guts, the same harsh red as the blood that is seeping through Kikwang’s clothes and spraying from Jongup’s bullet wound.

Yongguk is flinging himself forward, wrenching the lid open to reveal a single white rose, dewy and perfect on a bed of crimson rose pedals. No documents, not even a symbolic handgun – just. A rose.

Just for a second, all four of them are frozen – but Himchan is snapping “Youngjae!” and that’s all that is needed for them to spring into action again.

Youngjae checks over the PASIV one last time, fingers hesitating over the lines before giving the red one to a frowning Himchan. Out of the corner of his eyes, He can see Yongguk moving to cover them and Jongup attempting to pick up his guns even though it’s obvious the bullet clipped a vein.

“Zelo said the red lines –“ there’s a warning in Himchan’s voice, but Youngjae is gratified that despite the doubt ringing clear in his voice, the man doesn’t hesitate in pressing the line into Kikwang’s arm.

“- contains trace hallucinogens, I know.” Youngjae is trying to find his own vein with a white line. In the background Yongguk is yelling at Jongup to stop being stupid and shoot himself out onto the first level. “We are going into my personal security level, hyung, I want to make sure he doesn’t accidentally extract from me.”

 Himchan’s stare suddenly ups its intensity, and Youngjae knows that they will be having _words_ after the job. Lips pursed, Himchan nods, one large, blood soaked hand reaching towards the PASIV compressor, “Seven minutes- that's fourty seven minutes on the third level. Be careful.” – and Youngjae dreams.

 

 

 

 

Youngjae remembers reading a laughably unscientific article on lucid dreaming once. The articles used the term cargo cult to describe the rising interest in 'dream-science' as if inventions and discoveries are the same thing - as if human innovations are pre-determined. Sometimes, though, the idea has a certain appeal.

 

He threw himself off the ledge of sanity, in that last week of desperation before this job, but he found a safety net weaved by his own subconscious. He’s heard of this before, some of the most experienced dream thieves are rumored to have security levels, carefully crafted for the day when they are inevitably double crossed by their own profession, when someone younger and sharper comes along to extract their secrets. Youngjae never expected to build one himself, _by accident_.

He wakes with his back on thick, carpeted floor and Lee Kikwang’s gun in his face.

“Yo-you are ….Jaebum, right?”

Youngjae’s mind is suddenly in overdrive – Lee Kikwang remembered the fake name he gave from a previous dream?- unusual, but he can definitely work with that, ask for Lee's protection by present himself as a scared civilian out of his depth is probably his best bet.

This is what they call ‘casting for type’, Youngjae thinks to himself with more than a hint of hysteria, almost crossed-eyed trying to his eyes on the – oh god, uncocked – weapon that is much, much too close to his face. He’s ridiculously exposed, sprawled in the doorway with his limbs pinned.

Lee Kikwang surveys him a moment more, then, face blank, slowly thumbs the safety back onto his weapon. Youngjae can’t help his whine of relief.

“Why are you trying to break into my hotel room, Jaebum–ssi?”

Fortunately gunshots cuts off whatever mediocre lie Youngjae is desperately trying to concoct. Instead, he whispers “Please help me –“ and lets the very real panic and fear seep into his voice.

Youngjae has never been more thankful for his young, delicate and above all, trustworthy features, as he is the moment Lee Kikwang purses his lips and drags him inside.

 

 

Youngjae needs to try and keep Kikwang and himself alive and maybe into one of the more secured ballrooms – since he doesn’t plan on leading an active assassin into the safe-room of his own anti-extraction dream. He babbles out a story about being a young heir, sneaking out to the bar after ditching his bodyguard and is now being hunted by unknown parties. “-my bodyguard said to go meet on the third floor ballroom if I get separated from him and is in danger.” He whimpers out.

Lee Kikwang seems to buy his shabby story, and amidst the sea of panic he’s drowning in, Youngjae feels a warm flutter of affection towards their resident genius Chemist. Whatever is in that red line, it’s working miracles. Even more amazingly, instead of putting a bullet through Youngjae’s head for causing him trouble, Kikwang – jaw clenched and eyes narrowed- seems determined to help him. _This,_ Youngjae thinks above his rising terror, _might turn out alright._

Youngjae’s security dream is something that looks very much like a hotel. He’s heard of other architects, dreaming realities together, using physical doorways to represent symbolic movement from one situation to another. He never managed it in a way that is satisfactory, but hotels, he can dream up without breaking into a mental sweat.

 

By the time they reached the third floor some ten minutes later, Kikwang had unapologetically shot six projections dressed like mafia goons. “You’ll have to pay off the staff and news teams later” was his only comment.

Kikwang is leading with one hand grasping tightly around Youngjae’s forearm, the other holding his weapon. Youngjae gives directions to the ballroom, trying to focus on the dream structure and not how his right pant leg is soaked in the blood of a figment of Kikwang’s imagination. He needs to somehow convince Kikwang to hide in one of the ornate side bathrooms that is connect to the ballroom without revealing how he know that particular bathroom has bulletproof, lockable doors.

He heeds Kikwang’s hiss of a warning too late, and stumbles when his arm is pulled as more goons appear from the other end of the hall.

 

A bullet grazes his hip, tears open the side of his dress pants. He falls with the momentum of the bullet. Swaying sideways and half deaf, for a second he doesn’t register what he’s seeing – the slow tumble of his keys as the bullet fractures the keychain, the speed of the shot carrying pocket lining and the broken keychain away from him. Youngjae can feel Lee Kikwang’s hand pulling his arm, trying to haul him back up, but he’s reaching for broken pieces of plastic that used to be a tiny ornamental camera which had decorated his keychain.

His totem, his link back to reality, shattered right before his eyes.

The walls seem to sway – like it wants to break apart like his toy camera had – Because, because the walls are not real, because he designed these walls himself, yes? – Youngjae is only vaguely aware of Lee Kikwang returning fire and dragging him away from the goons – _projections_ \- somehow, he has his broken keychain is in his hands, but he can’t seem to make himself do anything other than stare in disbelieve down at this – broken –

 

“Jaebum-ssi! Which way?” Lee Kikwang is hissing at him, and is that his name? Jaebum? – Isn’t it Youngjae?

Suddenly, he remembers a man, hair orange and eyes sharp – _Kim Himchan, yes_ – leaning closer to him in a room bathed in the light of a lilac sky and telling him “ _what you know to be real, is real._ ” – and what is real is…

Yoo Youngjae. Twenty three, ex-student, very good dream architect. Mentored under Bang Yongguk. Currently on the third level of a dream with a subject he is extracting from. The mission is to keep both of them alive for 49 minutes dream time, and then ride a kick that Kim Himchan is setting up in lower levels up to reality. Yes. Because there is a reality up there somewhere, and Yoo Youngjae, twenty three, is going back to it, even if his grasp of what is real is very, very shaky.

 

“This way.” Youngjae says, “Follow me.”

 

 

 

 

 

Youngjae rides the kick up three levels. He half naked – because he’s pretending to be a patron of a massage palour, he reminds himself, this is real. If he dies here, he will never wake up.

 

He doesn’t realize he’s gasping short, frantic breaths that don’t seem to reach his lungs until blunt fingers sneak under his chin, and Himchan forces his face up. The Point Man spares him one searching look, before pushing Youngjae gently into someone else’s arms. Strong, solid arms. Jongup.

Jongup- unhurt, real. _Real._

“Take care of him.” Himchan instructs, words fast and precise. Before Youngjae can reply, Jongup shifts his hold on him and gently, but firmly, leads him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you believe it's been a year and a half since I last updated this thing


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